The Rescue
by sleep-silent
Summary: It's been seventeen months since then, nobody talks about it, nobody acknowledges it. I can't even get close to anyone's touch, every time the memories just resurface in my mind; my body remembers the agony and torment, it becomes truly unbearable. I don't think there's any hope for me, no one can repair me. Not even... him. AU.
1. No pleasure

A/N: So the first chapter is supposed to be super cheery-at first. Don't count on the following chapters to be similar.

**WARNING****: This chapter contains graphical sex, rape, etc.**

Don't worry if you don't enjoy like hardcore lemon. This is the only one that's pretty bad. The rest of the story is more on the fluffy side. And it's not a IchigoxAizen story, just this chapter is. The story is GrimmjowxIchigo.

* * *

**res·cue [res-**kyoo] _verb_**  
**

1) To free or deliver from confinement, violence, danger or evil.

2) To liberate or take by forcible or illegal means from lawful custody.

3) To save someone from something.

* * *

Chapter One, No Pleasure

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

So much wet heat. So much fear. So much torment.

Whatever bit of pleasure there was, was drowned out in the agonizing pain.

"Say my name. Scream it." A man: strong and gentle set. He towered over his victim's unwanted hard on with brute force. More tears scaled his cheeks; he writhed in his pinned position and could do nothing more. His arms were bound above his head, and his legs were spread, knees locked. The man standing over his martyr was smooth, violent and lean. He didn't break a sweat, his voice didn't falter, and he always stayed even with his movements. The boy couldn't see his face, but could hear his reprehensible voice. Every time the man closed in on his ear, he whispered more defiling words and the teen memorized them unwillingly. Over and over again, the superlative yet torturing voice rung in his ears. And so he cried more.

"I won't." Compared to the man, Ichigo's voice was broken and breathy. Sweat poured down his exposed chest, it glimmered as he pumped in and out.

The man grabbed Ichigo's erection once again before positioning himself.

"No... please, stop." Ichigo felt the man's tip lean on him. He could feel the cool driblets of blood around his entrance being smoothed around.

"Scream it."

Ichigo gulped down more sticky saliva and anticipated the pure agony to rip through him once again.

* * *

_Hours earlier_

"Ichigo," An all too attentive face settled inches away from his son's, his voice was light and— "ICHIGO." Suddenly on top of Ichigo, he sucker punched him in the face- his routine wake up call. Ichigo's head pummeled to the right and his eyes shot open at the sudden sensation.

"The hell!" He shot out of bed, shoving his straddling father off of him. Ichigo rubbed his now reddening cheek.

"Aw, c'mon. You're just a pansy if you can't take a punch," his father teased.

Ichigo ignored him and continued on with his morning routine. He opened his dresser and began his search for clean clothes. He removed his shirt and hung his fresh one on, the numbers one and five embroidered on the front. Probably his most worn shirt, but the need to inform that was unnecessary just by artlessly looking at it.

"Yuzu made a spread this morning." Isshin licked his lips, leaving Ichigo to assume he was imagining the wonderful food being consumed by himself. He could already smell the omelets brimming with perfection from where he was standing, so it was no surprise that his dad was turning to pudding.

"I know," Ichigo was well aware of the scrumptious scent that had seeped into his room. He shooed his father away from his room, persuading his interests with the food that was probably dropping in temperature by now.

Ichigo finished dressing and jogged downstairs, his family just as lively as usual. Karin dug into her rice before another person got the chance to say good morning; her face was content and her eyes focused on her bowl.

"Mornin' Karin, Yuzu." Ichigo smiled brilliantly, also routine. He anticipated his sisters' smiles in return, predominately why he smiled to begin with.

"Ichi-nii, I made your plate already." Yuzu pointed behind her with the wooden rice spoon, her apron was plastered with colorful spots and it faltered from her waist—threatening to fall off.

"Alright." His voice held it's enthusiastic edge as he sat down across from Karin and rubbed his hands together. "Thanks." Ichigo dug in, noting that Karin was unusually quiet today. She had almost finished her food, Ichigo observed as she downed the rest quickly and politely.

"You okay, Karin?" Ichigo lifted an eyebrow to her silent response. She kept her eyes glued to her bowl, despite that she had finished. Isshin took it upon him self to elaborate in her place.

"She's got a soccer game today," His voice was boisterous as usual, yet somehow comforting. He tapped his chopsticks together and pointed at his silent daughter. "A big one." Karin shifted in her seat, her head dropped more. Eventually, she got up and washed her bowl—just as Yuzu and her dad were getting settled to eat their brimming breakfast.

"You going, Ichi?" Yuzu chimed as she sat in her seat. Her face was glowing with usual euphoria. Ichigo stared at her strawberry hair clips and reveled at the thought of his name and the fact that Yuzu thinks of him so highly.

"Well, yeah." Ichigo shoved a considerable bite of the steaming omelet into his mouth and his face melted into the ambrosial taste.

"It's after school hours, we'll probably have a _celebratory _dinner after." Yuzu picked at her omelet, still too hot to eat. Ichigo witnessed Karin past his father and sister, she flinched at Yuzu's assumption.

Ichigo finished the last few bites of his breakfast and came in close to Karin's position in the kitchen. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You'll win." Slowly, she brought her groggy face up to meet her brother's and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't be late." Ichigo shook his head, his warm aura mixing with Karin's. He felt a sense of happiness twinge onto her.

* * *

"Mornin'." Ichigo projected his voice over his friends' heads, a few looked over to him with their usual happy morning faces.

"Ichigo!" Orihime waved her hand to him.

He took his assigned seat, wincing at the coolness of the chair. Glancing out the window, he noticed what a bright day it was. No need for the lights to be switched on when the sun was plentiful; it had not allowed one shadow to be cast on the earth it seemed.

"How's my little gay friend doing?" It was a pinch your cheeks and how you would talk to your pet kind of sentence and it made Ichigo go red. If Orihime wasn't aware of the impact that sentence always had on Ichigo, then she must be blind—his embarrassment was written on him thickly. His cheeks piped up to a more vibrant crimson when his friends' attention began to focus on him, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. No longer could he hold eye contact with any of his friends.

It had been about a week since he told his friends that he wasn't straight. As embarrassing as it was, nobody laughed at him. Instead he got a more insulting response: ___"Yeah, Ichigo, we know."_Was it really that obvious? He wasn't unmanly, was he? He didn't sway his hips when he walked or speak effeminately. Nothing he did seemed homosexual, so how did he give him self away?

When Ichigo told his family and they too gave him something of the same reaction. Ichigo wasn't as humiliated as he was angry at them all for being so blunt about it. But now it was all over with. At least they accepted him, even if that was already established before Ichigo came clean.

"I, uh, I'm good?" He never knew how to respond to her, or if he even should. So of course this occasion was no different.

"Did you finish all your summer studies?" Uryu shifted his glasses up on his nose, expecting a surprised reaction.

"Of course." Ichigo replied sharply, smiling comically. He pulled out his summer work- fresh, stapled and ready for grading.

"What about you, Orihime?" Stunned by Ichigo's not so sudden question, she swallowed hard and parted her lips.

"I uh," She knocked on her head and smiled knowingly. "I didn't understand some of it." Now embarrassed, she sunk into her chair and yanked out her homework, it was crinkled and unorganized, not to mention half finished. Ichigo sighed and laughed a little.

"Maybe next time!" Orihime slapped her desk, wearing a determined expression. Everyone around her smiled—then was suddenly cut off by the bell. The other, miscellaneous students around the room filled in the vacant seats. The sound of shuffling papers and bags zipping open and closed filled Ichigo's ears; he heard it everyday.

Today was just another day.

* * *

By the end of the school day, Ichigo found that he was only half drained of energy. He kept his satisfactory mood up for the whole day and even now it didn't falter. To be frank with him self, he was surprised. Ichigo was more notorious for being a constant grump, always the party pooper. Today, the storm in his head had cleared and he felt slightly exhilarated.

"Ichigo," Orihime opened her shoe locker and removed small brown loafers, which she slipped on like glass slippers. "Mind if we walk together?" Everyday she asked and everyday Ichigo agreed. He assumed she was just being polite, but by now it really wasn't necessary to question him.

"Not at all."

Ichigo peered at the sun once again as he stepped away from the school campus, Inoue following behind him closely.

The walk home was ordinary. They talked about simple things, like school, family, sports. They did this every day. They both smiled at each other, they both walked hip to hip, they even synchronized their footsteps sometimes (subconsciously of course). Orihime always looked Ichigo in the eyes when they spoke, her shimmering orbs always captivated Ichigo with her natural kindness. He could get lost in them for an eternity. They reminded him of Yuzu's polite eyes.

Little did he know that Orihime had fallen head over heels for him. She hid it so well by portraying the perfect friend. Or maybe Ichigo was just too dense and unattracted to girls that he never knew—probably that. The ginger girl was utterly depressed when she heard Ichigo's news about his sexuality. But soon enough she coped and reminded herself that it was better that she never dated him—it would have been degrading, forcing something that wasn't supposed to be. Plus, she definitely didn't want to help Ichigo figure out that he was gay; that would be another kick in the side to Orihime.

"I could tutor you, you know." Ichigo's voice was smooth and content. He watched his feet walk forward as they conversed about their position on their school work. Orihime wasn't surprised that Ichigo got close to perfect grades; it was just another amazing attribute to him. Orihime, on the other hand, wasn't too straightforward with her work. She always procrastinated and avoided it. It was too hard for her so she would give up, sleep or eat. She didn't get how it was such a breeze for Ichigo.

"Y-Yeah! That sounds... nice." Orihime clapped her hands together and Ichigo grinned towards her. He was delighted to help her; she needed it and it obviously changed her perspective once offered. Her body language became more upbringing and her face returned to it's sheen of brilliancy.

"But tonight's no good," He began, his eye brows furrowed as he contemplated a suitable time. "Tomorrow I could come over and help." Orihime nodded vigorously, her hair scaling her back from her head bobbing.

Ichigo reveled in her constant beaming attitude. She had every right to constantly be sad, given that she's living alone because of her deceased brother and abusive parents. Ichigo thought about being in her shoes and cringed. What a hard life. The fact that she came to school every day and gave it her all made Ichigo happier. He knew that she was insecure about her grades and was doing everything she could to raise them. He figured a little extra help would be a good push. And having the privilege to hang out with her was just a bonus.

The duo approached her home at last. Naturally, the sun made lots of progress down the horizon during their walk. It tinted the earth orange, everything was encased in a beachy scene.

"I'll see ya tomorrow." Ichigo saw her off, his hand waved at her until she turned around and pushed her key in the lock, she turned and glanced at Ichigo one more time before shutting the door, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Gawking at his watch with a wide open mouth, Ichigo realized that he was running late. Karin must be playing by now and Ichigo wasn't there to see it. Quickly, he began towards the clinic with full throttle. The sun raced him as he headed for the horizon.

* * *

The crashing rain had come from nowhere. It was impossible that the clear sky could produce such deep gray clouds so quickly and dump all this pent up water on Karakura.

As Ichigo darted towards his house, it seemed as though the gray clouds approached with no warning or discretion. He didn't want it to rain on Karin and the others at her game, but now found the rancid weather inevitable. His happy attitude now began to crack under the rain drops that cooled his face. He was only half way home by the time the sun was completely shrouded by the ugly layer of clouds, so he picked up his pace and began to disregard the pedestrian traffic lights. Not many cars were around anyway. Ichigo figured that it was worth the risk.

Or not.

"Shit!" Screeching tires and a loud horn vibrated into Ichigo's ears. His heart thumped down into his stomach. The man in the car rolled down his window and threw various threatening insults at him. He ignored them and decided against apologizing to the heated man. He picked his footing back up. The clinic now in view, he forced his feet to go as fast as his body would let them. He didn't slow his pace after setting foot on the lawn, he kept going until he practically ran into the door. Quickly, he fumbled for his key. After dropping it, he tried again.

Then he dropped it again.

Suddenly paranoid, Ichigo looked around him self, doing a quick three sixty to reveal nothing around but him self. But he felt something odd. Something besides the rain was making noise. It came from the bushes and startled him. Ichigo left the keys on the ground and walked around his yard towards the rustling shrub.

Nothing was there. Shrugging, Ichigo turned back and headed for his door once again. Perhaps his clumsy fingers would let him down so he could make it inside.

Lightning struck, then sharp cracking thunder came after it, shouting it's existence with ample interest.

"Huh?" Ichigo dove for his keys but found that the concrete was no longer possessing them. He looked behind him on the ground, in his pockets, and his bag but realized that they were missing. Now he became concerned that something beyond him was going on. Someone was around, messing with him. Hiding in the shadows, but who? Maybe it was just an animal—a little sketchy, but Ichigo didn't want to imagine anything worse. He tried for the door; it was locked, of course, but Ichigo apparently deemed it worth a try.

Now flustered and panicking, he glanced in his window to see if intruders found their way in. The scene from the inside told him no, but his instinct said otherwise.

When he came back to the front walkway, that was when everything went to hell.

A force yanked Ichigo away from his window, and an arm reached around his throat and squeezed until he couldn't breathe. The stranger gripping him walked backwards, Ichigo's feet stumbled as he was pulled this way and that. He watched as his key that he had dropped was being pushed into the key hole. Ichigo was forced inside, the stranger still grasping his neck to the point of his breath being severed.

White splotches clouded his eyes and his stomach began to feel sick as his breathlessness was becoming too much of a pain to bear. He pulled and scratched the man but was quickly becoming too faint to have an effect on him. Before he knew it, his brain was giving out on him and sleep seemed inevitable. He stopped struggling, his body became limp and lifeless. The man threw him down on the ground and removed his mask.

Shaggy brown hair and a plain perfect face was revealed to the cold inside air. He smiled mercilessly and bent down to drag Ichigo to the nearest bedroom. His eyes were evil. Their brown color easily unnoticed from the vast nothingness in them.

He marveled in his stance staring at his new victim. The boy wasn't lanky or crowded with a mass of muscle, he wasn't ordinary or ugly. Now that he was expressionless, his eyebrows didn't twinge together in distress and his lean body wasn't thrashing.

The man grabbed Ichigo's limp wrists and dragged him to the stairs, seeing that there were no worthy places on this first floor.

* * *

His head throbbed manically as he slowly shook him self awake. Ichigo found him self in his own room. Everything was quiet and collective. His eyes were groggy and heavy, although he didn't feel sleepy. More like... cold.

He gasped sharply at the sight of his naked body before him, he didn't recall undressing, or even succeeding in unlocking the door. Just that he was supposed to be watching Karin play her game.

The game!

Ichigo leaned up—er, tried to. His hands and feet were bound to his bed posts with a... rope? He finally remembered being ambushed by a masked man, a rather strong fellow. He wore all black and had worked on Ichigo silently.

He shook his bed, making incredible noise throughout his room. That man was probably here, somewhere in his house. And he probably heard that.

The door silently creaked open and Ichigo's eyes merged into saucers.

"Ah, you're awake." His smooth and seductive voice didn't sway Ichigo, instead it made him fearful. The man seemed intelligent and determined—he was prepared and seemed to already know what to do; like a ritual.

"Who the fuck—" The man covered Ichigo's potty mouth with his cold, slender finger. "Don't speak yet." He replied in a hushed tone, his vocals pure. "Savor your voice while it works." The man smiled and laughed at Ichigo as he stared at his nude figure with hungry eyes. Ichigo's body stayed writhing and his chest pumped up and down with each sharp breath he took.

The man wasted no time at all getting to work on his victim. He pressed his lips against Ichigo's with painful force, bruising the mere teen's face. When he released him he cupped a hand around his cheek.

"W-What are you... Why?" Ichigo breathed, traumatized by this mysterious man.

"Don't worry, it'll be _fun._" The man pushed his finger against Ichigo's moist lips. Then he slid his finger down until the tip positioned it's self at the part in his lips. He shoved his index finger in, forcing it past his teeth. With his free hand he grabbed Ichigo's chin and dug his finger nails into it. He squeezed harder and harder until the boy relaxed his jaw and exposed his teeth and tongue. The man proceeded to shove another finger in and explore Ichigo's mouth. The warm moistness covered his fingers. He commanded him to suck.

"N-No." His voice was strained and disoriented from talking with a mouthful. The man pushed his fingers to the back of his throat; Ichigo's eyes collapsed shut immediately as the back of his throat was fingered desperately. He began to choke as the man kept his fingers blocking his uvula.

"Yes," pried the stranger.

Reluctantly, Ichigo etched his mouth closed and constricted his lips around the man's salty fingers. He began to move his fingers back and fourth, Ichigo kept his eyes open, he watched his expression and began to see that this man was relentless and would continue on for the remainder of whatever he had planned.

The man slid his fingers out of Ichigo's mouth, he began to trickle the saliva down the cut of Ichigo's abdomen, he smoothed it around with his thumb, feeling the now wet skin, caressing intently.

"W-Who are you?" Ichigo choked out the words through strained teeth.

"I couldn't tell you my full name, but you may call me Aizen." The man came close to Ichigo's ear, he purred his own name into Ichigo, toppling him with all kinds of unwanted ecstasy. He licked the shell of his ear, then nibbled, then bit with force. Aizen ignored Ichigo's helpless whimpers as he worked his way down to his neck. This time when he dug his teeth into him, he sucked all the blood to the surface and watched as the small pink mark transformed into a large purple bruise. He smiled at the glistening hickey, then repositioned and created many more hickeys just like it on him. He planted many on his neck, leaving long term evidence on they boy. Then he migrated to his thighs and continued to suck lower down.

"S-Stop!" Ichigo pleaded, leaning his head up to see Aizen closing in on his groin. The man ignored Ichigo's request and began to touch his softness. Ichigo grunted at the dry heat encasing his member. Now slightly less coherent, Ichigo couldn't help but sprout up. Aizen gawked at his marvelous erection. He pressed his thumb on the top of it and squeezed until Ichigo cried out. He lowered his head down and kissed the tip lightly. Ichigo sighed at his soft lips touching him so perfectly. Aizen clasped his hand around the base and slowly moved his hand up. Soon, the kissing turned into nibbling then sucking. Aizen dribbled his own spit on it for lubrication and began to pump with his hand and mouth, his hand stroking where his mouth couldn't reach. Ichigo bellowed out at the sudden heat and clenched the muscles in his body. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He could already feel his peak coming along, it wasn't long before he released into the man's hand.

"Cute," He moved his eyes up Ichigo's body, then moved his figure up on him and straddled his abs. Ichigo kept his eyes shut, he barley breathed.

"Please, no more." Not abiding, the man scooted up closer and positioned him self at the boy's mouth. Ichigo gasped at the point of contact and snapped his mouth closed.

He quickly regretted it as his chin was yanked down and the inside of his mouth was exposed yet again. Aizen thrusted himself into his mouth and groaned at the slickness of his tongue. Ichigo screamed out inaudible sounds. He kicked his feet, curled his fingers, and his nails dug into his palms to the point of bloodshed.

After about a minute of diligent thrusting, Aizen slipped out of his mouth. He leaned over and kissed Ichigo as hard as he did the first time, but intruded his mouth with his tongue, twitching it around his teeth and fighting with Ichigo's own tongue. He sucked his bottom lip, purposely making a loud suction noise as he finally let go, Ichigo could finally breathe.

"Ready?" His husky voice was dark and luxurious, his breath dusted Ichigo's face—it smelled sweet.

"_No. Please._" Ichigo's words were firm and desperate. He knew what the stranger was getting ready to do at the sight of him moving his body down and positioning him self at his entrance.

"You're already wet," He spoke with an aerated tone, laughing into his words. Ichigo felt dirty and corrupted, he didn't want this in the slightest. He begged and begged, seemingly postponing this inflexible outcome, Aizen just watched and grinned fraudulently—he liked it when Ichigo pleaded.

"I don't want..." His voice was finally giving out, he couldn't assert what he wanted to say he couldn't even think straight. "I've never..."

Aizen kept his eyes locked on Ichigo for a mere two seconds more before plowing in. It wasn't an easy task for the man either. He fell on Ichigo, their chests in contact. He made another quick and agonizing move until he filled Ichigo completely.

He screeched his voice so blatantly that Aizen's head began to ring and a pain sprouted in the back of his brain. But he didn't stop. Ichigo kept blaring his voice as Aizen moved in and out. The pain was overwhelming. He began to see blotches of whiteness in his vision. Why did the man have to make it so painful?

Aizen began to speed up, mixing precum with a small excrement of blood. Ichigo kept his eyes squeezed shut. He held onto the bed posts, his feet twitching each time new pangs of misery ripped through him. His breaths were short and ragged; he couldn't relax his abdomen. The whole time he kept his back arched but the pain couldn't be lessened no matter he positioned his body.

"I'm almost..." The man sounded berated and breathy. He soon came to his peak as he gained even more immense speed. The bed suddenly dipped as Aizen bent down to wrap his lean arms around the boy's waist. He held him extremely tight, squeezing the breath away from him.

"P-Please," Ichigo tried to sound out the words running through his head, he _had _to. "Not inside..."

The man smiled deviously, as if to take that as a challenge. Ichigo felt the wet, squishing feeling inside him fill him up and eventually seep out as Aizen pulled out.

It was quiet between the two. They both laid there breathing hoarsely and intensely. Ichigo still feared that he wasn't finished with him even though he already came once. He couldn't be more right.

Aizen dove to the ground and reached in a black bag. He tore out a pocket knife and flipped it open. He licked his lips and twisted the knife around in his digits, watching the glare scan it before it finally reflected into his eyes.

He stared at Ichigo: observing, predicting. Then he decided that even though he liked hearing him scream, he had in mind a better idea. He leaned over once again and pulled out a small cloth. He shoved it in Ichigo's mouth and applied tape over it. Ichigo appeared doleful and petrified. Aizen marveled at it.

As Aizen closed in on him with the sleek blade, Ichigo shook his head, he tensed his muscles in anticipation. Tears started down his cheeks but he couldn't look away from the brunette's eyes.

* * *

So much wet heat. So much fear. So much torment.

Whatever bit of pleasure there was, was drowned out in the agonizing pain.

"Say my name. Scream it." A man: strong and gentle set. He towered over his victim's unwanted hard on with brute force. More tears scaled his cheeks; he writhed in his pinned position and could do nothing more. His arms were bound above his head, and his legs were spread, knees locked. The man standing over his martyr was smooth, violent and lean. He didn't break a sweat, his voice didn't falter, and he always stayed even with his movements. The boy couldn't see his face, but could hear his reprehensible voice. Every time the man closed in on his ear, he whispered more defiling words and the teen memorized them unwillingly. Over and over again, the superlative yet torturing voice rung in his ears. And so he cried more.

"I won't." Compared to the man, Ichigo's voice was broken and breathy. Sweat poured down his exposed chest, it glimmered as he pumped in and out.

The man grabbed Ichigo's erection once again before positioning himself.

"No... please, stop." Ichigo felt the man's tip lean on him. He could feel the cool driblets of blood around his entrance being smoothed around.

"Scream it."

Ichigo gulped down more sticky saliva and anticipated the pure agony to rip through him once again.

Above all else, the man was predictable. Ichigo whined as Aizen's fresh erection pummeled into him again. Old pain registered in his mind. He didn't yell as much now, instead he just breathed heavily.

It had been so long, Ichigo was starting to lose himself. His face was vacant now, no pain or pleasure manifested on his complexion. As his body bulged back and fourth he kept no emotion on him. He was tired, in pain, and completely bereft of hope.

Ichigo could feel him self advancing towards yet another orgasm, hinting he would make a mess of him self yet again. But that still wouldn't be enough for Aizen, Ichigo thought. He grunted as his peak arrived, rummaging through his brain and filling his stomach with butterflies.

Then something gripped the base of his member, with terrible strength too.

"_Say it_." Aizen demanded.

Ichigo returned to his lively, traumatized expression, he wasn't expecting the change in pattern. He couldn't bring himself to call the man's name. He was already completely tainted with so many other humiliating factors. Screaming his name would cause his dignity to be shrouded completely.

"N-No, I... can't." Aizen's nose scrunched up slightly and his eyes dimmed. He gripped harder and Ichigo closed his eyes.

Accompanied by unimaginable pain, Ichigo could sense the walls in his brain collapsing, giving in and making him incoherent.

"A-iz..."

_No!_

He couldn't do it—another flash of raging pain.

"_Aizen_...!"

* * *

**To be continued...**


	2. Despair and Blue Hair

A/N: Thank you for all your reviews! I replied to all of them, personally thanking all of you.

Also thank you to everyone that favorited and followed!

This chapter is supposed to be like the first one, but with the opposite mood.

* * *

Chapter Two, Despair and Blue Hair

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"Wakie, wakie." A fragile voice rung throughout the small built girl. "Yuzu, school is starting soon." Isshin rocked her back and fourth but she made no sound and didn't voluntarily move her body. He couldn't see her face but he knew enough to tell that she was awake. "You have to go to school today. It's been three days."

Isshin sighed and helped him self to a seat on her bed, which dipped in and creaked loudly as he relaxed his dense weight. "At least go on Thursday and Friday."

Looking around the room, Isshin located her hair clips. They had been dormant for some time now. Careful not to pull on her hair, he lifted a tuft up and clipped the small strawberry clip in. It held her strands back and revealed her open eyes. She didn't move but her eyes shifted, as if to look at what was in her hair.

She gripped her pillow harder; the poor, broken girl held back her tears—she was good at it now.

Yuzu began to rise; she propped her self up with one arm and rubbed her face with her free one. A sudden light flickered in from under her door. The bags under Yuzu's eyes were now visible to her worried father. A sound from down the hall came into ear shot- a door creeping open slowly, then shutting. Isshin sighed despondently before reluctantly rising to his feet.

"I'm gonna go check on him."

Yuzu gave him a firm head shake as she threw her feet over her bed and stretched her arms up. More light brightened her room when Isshin opened the door. She winced at the rarely seen light and rubbed her eyes.

Isshin couldn't see anyone, but his opposing senses told him that people were bustling around. Karin was downstairs, making breakfast for herself, or something of the sort from what he could tell. He heard the toilet flush in the other room then watched as Ichigo emerged from the door. Isshin caught the bleak look from him, which was his usual expression nowadays. Though it had been long since he had seen his son without it, each time the father witnessed it, he got chills.

"Ichigo."

Ignoring the man, Ichigo continued into his room and began to shut the door but he was too slow. Isshin stopped it with his palm.

Another menacing glare.

"Hey." His voice was dark and concerning as he spoke to his son. "What's with the face?" He acted stern, trying to get through to the boy. But it backfired. Isshin's wrist was grabbed and pushed away, giving Ichigo the liberty of shutting his door. He couldn't hear anything beyond Ichigo's door now and the man contemplated his next move. He wasn't sure what the right thing to do was; after all, nothing he ever did worked.

Everything he tried didn't blow up in his face as much as having no effect whatsoever. He didn't get a happy or sad response when talking to Ichigo, whether it be a harsh or gentle push—a sort of urge to save him from his trance, but it didn't do anything. Isshin might as well have been wasting his breath.

Swallowing hard, the determined father pushed away his doubts and opened the door. Ichigo was seen with his shirt half off, he had his elbows in the air with the shirt around them. Isshin caught a glance of his now rarely seen abdomen. The boy had small pink lines covering him, too many to count on one hand. Each one the same amount of intensity, they all had a specific pattern; like the man who wielded the knife was trying to carve gills. Isshin quickly averted his eyes when Ichigo's face popped out from his shirt.

His father's prediction of a soon to be bruised face proved to be wrong when Ichigo only looked at him once before continuing on dressing himself. Who was he kidding? Isshin was crazy to think that Ichigo would do something so lively.

"Ichigo, I—"

"I'll be downstairs in just a sec." His voice could have easily been mistaken for a different person's. He didn't sound angry, sad, happy; none of that. It was empty and hollow. Just his throat making noise.

"Right..." Isshin closed his eyes, seemingly disappointed. He shut the door and turned around for the stairs.

Before he could begin descending, Yuzu appeared in front of him. She had just came out of her room, the sound of the door knob clicking as evidence. She looked tired and depressed. Her whole aura was out of sync—today was not one of her better days, despite that she worked up the courage to go to school.

Isshin gestured for her to walk down before him. As she passed him he noticed that the clip in her hair was taken out.

* * *

The weather was beginning to look less promising. Gray clouds masked the sun, so early in the day. The rain began to pelt Ichigo's window, sounding similar to hail with its blunt force. His room was oddly dimmed by the sunless scene, making it harder to see, but he didn't feel like walking to the light switch even if it would make things a lot easier.

He rummaged through his messily put together sock drawer, searching for a match. As the time barely ticked away, he grew more and more irritated with himself; he was quickly finding that the light would have made his endeavor a lot more manageable. Ichigo quickly lost patience with himself and pulled out the first two things in his dresser. He slammed it shut, causing the miscellaneous items on his dresser to either wobble or fall over. He didn't bother to fix the disarranged appearance of fallen over knickknacks and socks holding his drawer back from closing. He sat on his bed and put his shoes on.

It hadn't rained in a while, but for some awe inspiring reason, Ichigo felt like it was raining not too long ago.

A distant, muffled call of his name rung in his ears. "Orihime's here!" Isshin's voice was hearty and admirable, a good mask to put on around Orihime.

As Ichigo trailed down the stairs slowly, he glided his hand on the rail light enough to make that unbearable squeaking noise with his palm. His eyes were barren and didn't look anywhere besides the steps. He began to recall some time ago when there was mud tracking on each step, a perfect shoe print left by someone other than him self.

"I-Ichigo!" Orihime was glad to see that he was in one piece still, though as he approached her, she knew not to lay a finger on him. A simple gesture always had to be enough.

"Ready?" She asked, still standing at the door with her shoes on. Evidently, Ichigo was obliged to say yes.

Her hair, complexion, and voice- everything about her was so elated; it was like a breath of fresh air to this carious home.

"Y-Yeah," Ichigo dropped eye contact with the girl and glanced behind him, he noticed that someone had prepared him breakfast. "I, uh," Ichigo looked at his despondent family. They stared back at him, awaiting for him to speak.

"Sorry, Yuzu, but could you—"

"Yeah," she said with a short smile cooked onto her face. It dropped as soon as Ichigo shut the door behind him. The bereaved girl made her way to the kitchen, Ichigo's cold breakfast in tow. She placed it in the refrigerator, on top of yesterday's breakfast that he had yet to eat.

* * *

As they walked, it was silent. Nothing but the rain's melody made sound. With a single black umbrella, Ichigo had no choice but to share. He didn't want Orihime to be showered, but he didn't feel right taking some of her shelter. Of course, she insisted that Ichigo covered himself from the rain.

And so there they were.

"How's school?" She noticed, that Ichigo was trying his best to be happier but his face only defined sadness.

Even now, Orihime still looked into Ichigo's eyes when she spoke. "It's tough." She plastered on a plain, monotonous face to suit to her voice.

The rain picked up in tune to the fresh aura of awkward silence enveloping the couple. Ichigo cleared his throat a few times, his pace kept consistency with Orihime's footing. He didn't try to comb out a conversation to begin. He didn't really _ever_ try to anymore. The silence was what made him the most comfortable, he forgot to care that Orihime had different ideals than him. She always managed to carve words from her brain, though never did she offend Ichigo, and she didn't ask or pry too much.

"But I was wondering..."

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow; she had sounded distracted, distanced. Orihime was treading on glass now, it wouldn't be long before it all went to hell.

"Could you... tutor me?"

His curiousness was briskly severed as the thought of further socializing entered his mind. "I would... it's just that—"

"No, it's okay I get it." Orihime sighed. Her eyes stung with tears of disappointment. Every single time she tried to make him open up, he shot her down without hesitation. She didn't get angry though; Orihime knew that he couldn't help it.

After all, it had only been seventeen months since that day.

* * *

Ichigo stared out the window of his classroom. He watched the raindrops hit the glass then roll down slowly, but only when another drop merged into it, did gravity finally have an effect. The clouds in the distance didn't seem as dense as they did that morning. A thin, vast cloud was all that was left of the clammy weather but it still managed to cast itself over the sun and dim the earth.

Ichigo tuned out the bustling of his busy class around him. He kept his glare on the outside scenery, the cool air that housed the damp grass and cloaked sun. It all made his stomach cramp in remembrance. When he heard the rain, other menacing, familiar noises came back to him from then. Noises that he'd rather not remember now, not here at school.

At last, Ichigo's train of thought was severed by the unavoidable sound of the bell. He sighed in relief as he sat forward, dismissing any thought that threatened to enter his mind. Ms. Ochi grasped the brittle piece of chalk and began to scribble the agenda for the day. Ichigo squinted to make sense of the somewhat legible handwriting.

He averted his eyes from the board and glanced at the half open door; it wasn't like Ms. Ochi to leave the door open, so why the sudden change of habit?

"Good morning, good morning," her harmonizing voice rung throughout the class room. The students piped down their chatter and focused their attention on the teacher. "We have a new student joining us today. Please make him feel welcome." Ms. Ochi gestured towards the open door, smiling and urging the waiting student to finally make his debut.

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow at the sight of a statuesque, blue haired guy. His eyes were tense with a sordid expression and he seemed quite intimidating.

"Would you mind?" Ms. Ochi handed over the stubby piece of chalk for the new student to print his name on the board. The students watched as the student scratched his name out.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, what a joke, just as comical as his hair. Ichigo made a sharp 'tch' noise under his breath and rolled his eyes as the new kid brushed his hands together to rid his palms of the chalk residue.

After the teacher finished his introduction and directed him to a seat, class carried on like normal. Except now there was a superhuman sitting across the room from Ichigo. The teen's legs adjusted many times in his seat, resulting in his feet kicking Renji's desk in front of him. The way his figure was scrambled into his desk was amusing, how he was going to stand up without taking the desk with him was a question worthy of asking.

Throughout the whole lesson, Ichigo gawked at the baby blue hair. He couldn't help it, he had never seen anyone with such a boisterous coiffure. It stuck up in various directions, bringing up the question of whether or not he brushed his hair this morning.

Then, right in the middle of the teacher's lecture, Grimmjow turned his head around. His eyes settled on Ichigo's, too quick for the boy to casually shunt his eyes away. Ichigo flooded with embarrassment, the heat probing his face. The new student, Grimmjow, shrugged a small snicker before turning around. A toothy grin was evident on his face and for some inadvertent reason, Ichigo felt insulted by it.

* * *

_This was stupid. Unfair and stupid._

Grimmjow alternated the position of his legs over and over again and each time, his knees still managed to touch the bottom of the desk.

Why did the damn desks in Japan have to be so small compared to the ones in America? Were there no six foot tall people in Japan?

As Grimmjow moved relentlessly in his chair, he swore every kid in the class was staring at him. He wasn't surprised though, it's not everyday that people see a blue haired man tower over them like a skyscraper. He got it everywhere he went and he was beyond used to it. But for some reason, even though he could feel the gaze of every student, he felt less uncomfortable in this particular scene.

Probably because of the red haired freak sitting in front of him. His hair was tied in a messy pony tail, it's vibrant shade bored into his eyes. Even though it's length was being tamed by a hair tie, his locks still came close to Grimmjow's face. When he breathed small strands of his hair began to dance ferociously.

As the clock ticked on, Grimmjow tried to focus on whatever it was the teacher was talking about, but he soon realized he was dumbfounded—the things they studied here were far too advanced for him. So he found himself feeling the anonymous eyes around the room ogle at him. Incidentally, Grimmjow turned his head around to scare away the stares of his fellow peers.

Immediately, he locked eyes with some angry looking kid on the other side of the room. Yet another person in the room with loud hair. Its orange hue was carrot like and suited his complexion, which was now reddening. His eyes looked dejected and his eyebrows were creased together to match, but his skin was clear and smooth, and his figure wasn't lanky like all the other Japanese people in the room. Grimmjow instantly felt a slight attraction to the boy, but the kid didn't seem too happy that Grimmjow was stealing glances at him.

When Grimmjow finally did turn back around, he made sure the kid saw as he smiled deviously and knowingly.

This was going to be fun, he thought.

* * *

A/N: Slow chapter, but don't worry, next one will be more lively. :D


	3. Stirring up Dust

A/N: I'm taking a small detour back to chapter one.

Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites, it makes me so happy that some people are enjoying this story! :D

* * *

__Chapter Three, Stirring up Dust

__xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

_As Aizen flipped the knife through his fingers, gawking at it, Ichigo felt his heart thump around in his stomach—a new kind of pain was about to begin, and the end of Ichigo was near. The boy pleaded so heavily, it seemed he would have willed to give his life away. As long as it meant that the agony would finally come to an end. He cried so many tears, the hair around his ears was wet with saltiness. Ichigo's eyes followed the blade around as Aizen dipped his figure back down to his black bag, it's point threatening him._

_The room was spinning, Ichigo didn't even feel like he was in his own bedroom, it's aura was so severely out of whack; everything was so dark and frightening. He screamed and cried to no avail, eventually Aizen could bear it no more, seeing as though he leaned back up with a jagged rag in his hand. Ichigo shook his head no, finally ending his bellowing voice. But it was too late, Aizen was already jamming his fingers back in Ichigo's mouth, the cloth gloving his hand. The dryness of it made Ichigo's mouth sticky, he wanted to spit it out; it was harder to breathe this way anyway._

_Then the sound of tape ripping from the roll came into earshot, when it made that screeching noise Ichigo became toppled with goosebumps. The tape was applied over his lips—but just before it was stuck Aizen apologized sincerely. He commented on Ichigo's soft looking lips, he was disappointed that they would be—in his words, no more._

_Ichigo tightened his muscles all around his body as the intruder whipped the knife around, contemplating the best point of contact. _

_His voice became filled with dark pleasure as he spoke, "Something to remember me by..." The cool sensation of the blade on hot skin went unnoticed by Ichigo, the only thing that registered in his mind was the sight of a drop of blood escaping his abdomen, it's orb shape amplifying. Finally, it became accompanied by pain as the cut deepened. _

_Aizen laughed lightly, he laughed at each laceration his blade carved, he laughed as Ichigo cried silently. Everything was so entertaining to him, it couldn't have been his first time. He was so organized, he didn't hesitate with his movements when he violated Ichigo, and he wasn't acting on impulse when he drew his knife. _

_Slowly, the man leaned into his movements, taking every step to deepen his pleasure. He closed his eyes when he made each cut, sliding the knife down, blindly guiding it. Aizen creeped closer to Ichigo's face with each slice, the man's breath intertwined with his. Then he grabbed his shoulder for leverage and continued his ritual, sweat began to collect between his palm and the boy's skin, Ichigo cringed at the sensation._

"_Last one," Aizen smiled and accentuated his grip on the orangette's shoulder before making his final, ecstasy filled gash._

_With a quick swipe, Aizen flicked the blood off, no discretion as to where it landed in the room. The man left Ichigo bound and silenced, he packed his supplies, still marveling at his victim. _

_Ichigo would have been relieved if it wasn't for his departing words of his return. He clarified his reasons for letting Ichigo live, he told him he should have been happy knowing that he was treasured. _

_Even after his abrupt abandonment, Ichigo felt unsafe. _

* * *

_Not long had passed before the sound of the front door opening was heard, Ichigo's family had come home in an elated mood. Ichigo was still awake, his blood loss wasn't severe—although it was tiresome. He moaned through the cloth, trying to assert a scream but not doing any justice. His sisters called his name, they searched the first level for him before coming to the conclusion that he was in his room. Ichigo anticipated two pairs of footsteps to ascend the stairs, but only heard a single pair. He hadn't imagined that one of his own sisters would find him... In such a humiliating state, it would not only have an impact on Ichigo, that was definite. _

"_Ichigo?... You here?" Yuzu... No, why her? Why did it have to be her? Ichigo jingled the thick ropes relentlessly, he writhed in his position, his situation was dire—there was nothing he could do but wait to be found._

_At first Yuzu sounded relived that Ichigo's light was illuminating under his door... But she was quick to change judgment._

_A thick, jagged screech of her voice took place, her body stumbled backwards until she hit the wall, her back slid down it until her weight rested. _

"_**I-Ichi...**"_

"Ichigo," He sat up abruptly, his hand rested on his stomach, he was feeling familiarly sick.

"Y-Yuzu?" His voice cracked as he spoke, he was covered in sweat from his vigorous dream.

"It's seven," Yuzu's shadow of each of her feet blocked the light from seeping into his bedroom, she was standing outside of his door. After assuring her that he was awake, Ichigo climbed out of bed and glanced out his window—another cloudy day, but no rain yet.

The orange haired boy stayed collective with each movement, he was slow, placid. He looked around his bedroom; old, tainted memories clouding his mind of that day; thanks to his dream that day was fresh in his mind. So Ichigo left his room, he shut the door behind him feeling somewhat relieved. But to his dismay, he was then greeted by the blinding hall lights. He dove into the bathroom, sighing at the dimness that alleviated his eyes. Ichigo peered at him self in the mirror, he was slightly disturbed by his appearance, his shirt was noticeably damp with perspiration. Reluctantly, the orangette stretched his shirt over his limbs and exposed his upper body. He flipped the shower on before he finished discarding the rest of his clothes. His eyes avoided his own reflection, Ichigo was surely intimidated by it now that his shirt was off.

But even if he didn't look in the mirror, he still caught wind of his body that he admittedly did not want to visualize. Small pink lines etched into his skin in various places. The feel was rough and foreign, Ichigo knew it too well though.

"_Something to remember me by..."_

Ichigo's head stung with Aizen's sinful voice, he got exactly what he wanted when he carved Ichigo a souvenir—the affect Aizen had in mind was working swimmingly on him.

* * *

Grimmjow sat in his chair, as scrunched as usual. It had been about a week since he had moved to Karakura, and he wasn't having it by any means. Everything—and not only the desks were smaller. On his way out of the door this morning, he nearly skimmed the skin off of the top of his head; if it wasn't for his agile reflexes then he would not have been so lucky. Other people seemed to notice the disproportion with him and Japan. Some people tried not to stare at his loud figure, but they couldn't help it—Grimmjow was angry, but he understood.

It's cause he's a hot American boy, duh.

In reality, it was his statuesque body and blue hair, probably a bit of his shit eating grin too that drew everybody's eyes in. He flashed it at everyone, it just screamed _egoist. _

But if dared to smile like so in this atrocious classroom, people might begin to wonder what he was on. Especially since he could still feel people staring at him, despite it being so late in the week. Grimmjow wondered when he would fade from the likes of people's gossip—for some reason he was a spectacle of interest. No one had really tried talking to him, maybe they were intimidated by his bulkiness and piercing expression. Or perhaps they thought he was some kind of thug. Whatever it was, no one wanted to associate with him it seemed.

Except for that one guy in front of him with the blooming crimson hair. He was a sore thumb too, good thing hands come in pairs, Grimmjow thought. The fellow went by Renji, he was similar to Grimmjow in some aspects; although Grimmjow wasn't much of a conversationalist like Renji. Renji could ramble on forever if you'd let him. At times the bell was more like a life raft for Grimmjow; some things he just _did not _want to hear.

"Did ya hear me, Jaegerjaques?" Renji protested, poking Grimmjow in the chest. They both slumped in their seats, Renji was turned around with an elbow resting on Grimmjow's desk.

"Yeah, yeah. The news..." He rolled his eyes at his new—and angry friend.

"Well, have ya heard of him?" Grimmjow blinked a few times, still apparently not caring that he was ceasing to donate to the conversation.

"Heard-uh who?" It seemed as though Grimmjow was speaking slowly compared to Renji; but it was more like Renji was talking fast compared to Grimmjow.

"The killer! Haven't cha' heard of the Karakura killer in the states?" Oh right, they were talking about Japan's most notorious serial killer. Grimmjow caught glimpses of their discussion, but wasn't concerned about retaining much of it—he usually discarded most of what Renji said anyways, seeing as though it was lengthy nonsense.

"Nah, too many of our own," Grimmjow laughed, still weary. He shifted in his seat, leaning up against his chair properly. He peered over the shuffling students around him, the entirety of the class was almost present, just a couple of students had not shown up.

Like that sinful orange haired kid. He entered Grimmjow's mind plain as day, he remembered timing his glance so perfectly that day to catch the sucker staring at him. It was a good catch; but it was a fucking _prize _seeing the berry blush. Grimmjow liked it; he wanted to see him shed more of that red.

He watched as the man of the hour waltzed in, as conventional as ever. His monotonous face was relaxed, and his eyes weren't fixated on anything in particular. He obliviously passed Grimmjow's desk, heading to his own, the berry's tallness was manageable according to Grimmjow, he would measure up to him nicely.

"Yo," Renji called, waving his sprawled out fingers in front of Grimmjow's face. "Somethin' dazzle you?" Grimmjow chortled gleefully at his choice of words. He averted his gaze from the orangette and hesitantly brought his attention to Renji—wondering what Renji thought _dazzled _him.

"Who's he?" The bluenette pointed across the room to yours truly.

"Kurosaki Ichigo. A loner." Renji retorted, now giving the impression that he was bored.

"Loner?" Grimmjow glanced back at the kid, now imagining him as a 'loner'.

"Well ever since that incident... he's been... quiet." Renji wasn't particularly inclined to talk about it, but his tone only furthered Grimmjow's curiousness. It must be interesting if even Renji wasn't willing to spill the beans.

"What _incident_?"

"Well ya know that killer I was just talking about?"

Grimmjow nodded, now regretting his neglect towards Renji and his rambling.

"That kid was a victim... He's the only one that survived." Grimmjow's down turned lips now etched upwards into a curling grin—how cliché. But maybe it had something to do with Renji's earlier label for the kid: a loner.

He contemplated Renji's words, silence became filler between the duo, Grimmjow was now looking bent up with eagerness, Renji felt obligated to interrupt his train of thought. "He's not worth it though... Trust me." His eyes were now painted with warning.

It was definitely worth looking into in accordance to Grimmjow. Renji was a dead giveaway—the flame to his curiosity.

* * *

It was absolutely nerve wracking having that kid with the turquoise colored hair stare at Ichigo throughout the class period. Each time he turned his head towards him it became more unbearable and threatening. Something didn't sit right with Ichigo and he wasn't counting on finding out what it was anytime soon. He watched as the minute hand on the clock barely ticked by, seemingly slow today—maybe it was that guy's eye balls that bore into Ichigo, somehow they must have slowed time down because it sure as hell felt like it.

Perhaps he was just feeling anxious today for no reason against that creepy kid, maybe it was last night's dream that was taking a toll on Ichigo.

_Or maybe..._ It was the news that he saw this morning, of that _man. _His newest victim in seventeen months, killed. Everything about this newest incident was painfully similar; almost everything was mirrored except, of course, the victim was dead.

Ichigo shivered, agonizing memories sizzled in his mind as fresh ones, he tried to shake them away, even concentrating on that kid's stares was better than recollecting.

Then abruptly, he was saved by the bell.

He gathered his things as swiftly as he could, heading home was urgent in his mind, even if he couldn't name a reason for it. With his things messily in tow, Ichigo sped from the room, blocking out his surroundings.

Which somehow bit him in the ass.

A hard grasp on his left shoulder pained him, he stopped in his tracks and cautioned his glance, telling him self that it's just a student. Even if it was his blue haired stalker, it was better than _him. _But his sense of touch alerted him, told him to get away. The feel of the blunette's grip wasn't foreign by any means; Ichigo pummeled into defense mode and ripped away from the kid's grip, then scurried away with a satisfying edge knowing that he successfully escaped.

It never occurred to him that not everybody had intentions similar to that of a serial killer.

* * *

Ever since Renji pegged Grimmjow's interest with that story about Ichigo Kurosaki, he was dying to know exactly what happened. But he was bound to talk to the berry if he was ever going to get answers. And after today's incident, he was almost sure that the last thing Ichigo would do is tell him how he survived a murder. So he was back to the drawing board.

Grimmjow leaned on his kitchen counter, his elbows bent and resting on the counter top while he waited for the microwave to beep. Two minutes felt like an eternity when he was hungry, even if his stomach growled and grumbled it would be to no avail if the ramen noodles were still hard and inedible.

His mind wandered to another dimension as the microwave hummed in the background. He thought of Ichigo's abrupt departure from his grip earlier in the day. All he was doing was calling the kid's name to get his attention, but Ichigo was either ignoring him or just really oblivious. Grabbing him seemed to be his only option, so he went for it, Grimmjow didn't know it would back fire like it did. Maybe he just had somewhere to be...

The sweet ding of the microwave rung and rendered Grimmjow from his light trance. He grabbed the styrofoam cup and jammed a fork into it before heading for his couch. But he stopped in his tracks, noticing his dormant computer. A virtual light bulb formed over Grimmjow's head, he figured that specific something he was eagerly wanting to know would be a few clicks away.

Grimmjow shoveled a lengthy bite of noodles into his mouth before placing his hands on the keyboard. He worded his question into proper Google format and began his search— although it wasn't much of a search, apparently this Ichigo Kurosaki was popular.

Various links involving him showed up in blue on the website. Each one having to do with the "Karakura Killer", or so Renji called it. Discussion forums were even dedicated to the kid, they were mere people wondering how he could have survived. Then Grimmjow found a link that sited the police report in which was released to the press. There was still no name or face to this killer, and his victims have no specific patterns.

What a bunch of morons, Grimmjow thought. The police must be swamped, the killer has them at his—or her—beck and call. They only managed to discover one thing that stood out to Grimmjow, even if they were a bunch of morons.

Ichigo was coincidentally the _only _rape victim.

* * *

A/N: It's super late where I am, but I really wanted to finish this chapter so that I can get to the good stuff. It's sooo hard for me to write better chapters when it's not fun to construct.

Pretty please drop a review! (:


	4. The First Spark

A/N: So sorry that it took me so long to update! I was having a bit of writer's block, I ended up re writing this chapter.

This chapter is when the _real _story begins. ;D

* * *

Chapter Four, The First Spark

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

That detestable, annoying reverberation of his alarm clock started hollering again, it was such a loathsome noise. The sound of his day starting, that terrible reminder that he had to get up and do things that he did not want to, even hearing his alarm when it wasn't the crack of dawn still edged him on and reminded him that it was inevitable. Under protest, he usually just hit the snooze button until he was scrunched for time; but today he really wasn't in the mood. He was having one of those mornings when his pillow felt unbelievably comfortable and leaving it was a distant, amiss thought. He knew that the light was waiting for him out there and it would be just as unwelcoming as always—truthfully, that didn't sound like too much fun at the moment.

And the off button was _right _there...

Fuck it, Grimmjow thought. He went for four days this week, Friday wouldn't miss him much. With a blissful tap of the off button on his hated clock, he slipped back into a light sleep with heaps of relief batting their eyelashes at him.

It was too bad for him that his sleeping smile only lingered for a few extra minutes.

It would have been all sugar and rainbows if that signature knock hadn't tapped on his door, three taps and he knew it was yours truly. "Grimm... Get up." Her sweet, gentle voice usually went unnoticed at this time of day, but he knew her genuine tone would dissipate if he became reluctant. So, feeling required, Grimmjow lugged him self out of bed and made him self decent before swiftly opening his door to the girl's ripe face.

"I'm up." He spat, slightly angry that he felt obliged. Sure she was older than him, and the provider for all his essentials for living; not to mention she supplied a roof over his head—okay, who was he kidding? Grimmjow would be a real ass if he didn't do the little things she asked. Like get up for school and well of course—

"Would you feed the cat?" She smiled knowingly, anticipating his answer. Under her arm was a laundry basket full of Grimmjow's clothes: all neatly folded and organized; implying that she was already busy. Something Grimmjow would most likely never bring him self to do.

Grimmjow nodded his head once and started towards the laundry room; where empty bowls and a dirty litter box probably awaited him. There was her cat, sleeping beatifically on top of the rumbling dryer—Grimmjow could feel his jealousy sizzling in the pit of his stomach; why couldn't he just be a cat?

"Ichi," Her cat was named Yoruichi, but trying to roll his R's like they did in Japan was too much of a challenge for a mere feline.

Upon chanting the cat's name, she sat up and immediately rubbed her nose against Grimmjow's elbow while he scooped up her food. When it pelted her bowl and piled up, he expected her to indulge her self, but as usual, she hadn't had enough of Grimmjow. He ran his thumb over her nose and plowed forward into her coat; he curled his fingers and used his nails so his petting would register through her fur. Yoruichi purred and arched her back into it; Grimmjow figured if cats could smile then this one would undoubtedly be cracking one from cheek to cheek.

Sighing, Grimmjow began to back away from the cat who then in turn jumped down from the dryer and snuggled her face against his leg requesting more work of his fingers.

Just for a day, couldn't Grimmjow be a cat? Was that so much to ask?

* * *

Eighteen days, two hours and twelve minutes had passed since Grimmjow had become the new student at Karakura High, but who was counting? _Certainly _not Ichigo.

Each one of those days grew to be more intriguing, Grimmjow kept his eyes on Ichigo bluntly all that time; like he wanted Ichigo to know that he was looking at him. He didn't say much, at least not after their minor quarrel after class the other day. Ichigo didn't feel bad for being rude to Grimmjow, the way he grabbed him was so... familiar. But that familiar feeling wasn't a good thing. When he touched Ichigo's shoulder he remembered things he didn't want to, the wheels of instinct in his head started turning and Ichigo ended up making a scene. He never realized that Grimmjow was just as harmless as a cat.

When the bell rang, snapping Ichigo out of his guiltless trance, Ms. Ochi began promptly. She was flustered and rushed; Ichigo was almost sure she had forgotten to brush her hair today too. But it all seemed worth it, at least by the looks of the new furnishings throughout the classroom.

"Good morning!" She smudged her palm along her forehead and continued into her hair, revealing her tired eyes that were unmistakably high on caffeine. "Please sit!" All around the room were displays of what looked like historical figures, they were each hand crafted—judging by Ms. Ochi's demeanor, she probably did them all by her self. A few of them Ichigo could recognize right off hand: Buddha, King Tut, Romulus and countless others. Ichigo wasn't positive, but he could see a project in his future.

"I have a special project for you all!" Moans and sighs throughout the formerly quiet classroom stunned the teacher's ears, however, she was expecting that. After taking a few short breaths, Ms. Ochi asked everyone in the class room to look around the room at the figurines. As students got closer to them, their hands couldn't help them selves. People started touching and picking up the props, the teacher didn't seem to notice though. She was too wrapped up placing small pieces of paper on each desk. Ichigo noted that each model had a number on it. It didn't take long to figure out that the scraps of paper had numbers corresponding to the figurines on them.

As he walked around the room, Ichigo scanned for Grimmjow, wondering what his take on Ms. Ochi's shenanigan was. When he spotted him unfamiliar pangs soared through Ichigo when he witnessed Grimmjow chatting it up with Renji—as usual. For some reason, he wasn't okay with it; Ichigo's old friend making new friends, something just didn't sit right with Ichigo. Although, he was always talking to Renji, so why was it bothering him now?

"Okay, now you can go back to your seats!" Ichigo slumped down in his chair, he found him self staring at Grimmjow's seat, and the person in it. He didn't avert his eyes until Grimmjow looked back with his usual creepy gawk. Upon sharing awkward eye contact with Grimmjow, Ichigo's unfamiliar pang of emotion squandered. He shrugged and looked forward at the teacher.

Ms. Ochi probably counted on taking up the whole class period talking about this new found project—in which she did; up until the bell rang and it still seemed she had yet to cover some topics. Each student was assigned a historical character, a project looking similar to Ms. Ochi's flamboyant display. Just the usual tri-fold board with a biography of said character. In which Ichigo's was someone who he had never heard of... Yashodhara; her name practically took the fluent tongue of Indian language to pronounce. The class was given a dead line for their research on each assigned person, Ichigo would have to buckle down if he wanted a decent grade.

* * *

Grimmjow had come to the definite conclusion that attending school today was a terrible idea. He'd been here a week or so and he already had a project, a big dent in his vacant report card would come to light if he didn't show some effort—courtesy to his roommate for letting him dwell with her. But this absurd project would have to wait until Monday, he really wasn't in the mood for a trip to the library.

At least that's what he would have had in mind if Ichigo weren't on his way to the library him self—yours truly tailing him. Grimmjow lugged his feet behind the kid, abhorring the heat that blanketed his back. When his hair began to flatten to his scalp and dampen with sweat, Grimmjow became uncomfortable, why did it have to be so damn hot in Japan? He was beginning to regret following Ichigo to the library. After all, he didn't know for sure that it was where he was going.

When the place of thought to be destination came into view, Grimmjow anticipated Ichigo to turn his footing towards it—luckily he did. But that was as far as the kid went.

Grimmjow wasn't expecting was Ichigo to stop_ dead_ in his tracks however. From what it seemed, Ichigo was just as surprised. A man, looking devious blocked Ichigo's path; his mouth began to move, but Grimmjow was too far away to hear him as he stirred up trouble. As he was getting closer, he realized that he needed a better plan at this point. But his feet kept moving and his brain did just the opposite. So Grimmjow impulsively kept going until he passed carrot top and walked through the doors to the library, blissful air conditioning mingling with his skin.

He looked behind him through the window and spied on the duo outside that were standing in the entrance way to the building. The man standing before Ichigo had vast, black hair that rested messily on his shoulders and cascaded down his back. His figure was just as statuesque as his hair too, he towered over Ichigo—marveled in it too, that glimmer in his eye spelled dominance. The way his eyes—er, eye narrowed when Ichigo's lips stopped seeping words led Grimmjow to think that they weren't having a friendly conversation. He had never seen this guy before, he looked older; too old for high school at least. The guy even wore an eye patch on his left eye, Grimmjow wondered what stunt he pulled to get that.

He probably got it when he was trying to pick up high school boys, Grimmjow thought. He didn't peg Ichigo the type to defend him self, thus foreseeing an bad outcome if this guy was what he looked like he was.

He watched as the anonymous creep's face intensified and his intentions became written clear as day on his face. He edged closer to carrot top who then backed up, his face turning rancid with fear. Grimmjow bit his lip, he wanted to interfere but didn't want him to think that he was spying—despite that he was. He hoped that his impression of Ichigo would prove to be wrong and result to a sucker punch on the man's face.

Of course Ichigo asserted to be the cowardly type...

The guy outside grabbed Ichigo's wrist and rose it to his face before yanking the kid toward him. Ichigo pushed away aggressively, his face became plastered with panic. Grimmjow's ears pricked up to the muffled sound of the man's angered voice right outside the glass. He bolted out the door without a second thought, the air rushing past him pushed his hair back and revealed his glistening and worry crinkled forehead. Neither Ichigo or the creep standing in front of him seemed to notice Grimmjow as he approached—just what he wanted when he grabbed Ichigo's shoulder to turn him around.

Although, Grimmjow didn't notice yet that he made a mistake—again. Ichigo flexed his muscles and turned around sharply; his face was bitter with absolute fear.

Grimmjow never imagined _he _would be the victim of Ichigo's sucker punch. But above all else the berry kid had strength; the blood now leaking from Grimmjow's nose was proof enough.

"Mudder fucker!" Grimmjow sang into his palms, now holing his face together. He stumbled back at the point of impact, and immediately, Ichigo noticed who he was.

"I'm sorry!" The orangette rushed to Grimmjow's side and gawked at his doing. Blood had oozed down out of his nostrils and touched his lips. Grimmjow was grasping the bridge of his nose, he wriggled it back and fourth, wincing at the pain. From what Ichigo could tell, it wasn't broken.

"Who's he?" Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, the man who spoke sounded just as disturbing as he looked. The bluenette wasn't fond of his question, he didn't necessarily have the right to be asking about Grimmjow when the man of the hour was the skinny freak.

Ichigo looked at Grimmjow, then back at the man. He tried to contemplate an answer but was clearly drawing a blank. "He's my—uh," Grimmjow's deadened voice rumbled in his chest as he laughed, trying not to snort blood. Right off the bat, Grimmjow thought of a passable answer to the guy's question, but in his eyes, he didn't deserve an answer.

"I get it," The man spat as he sized up Grimmjow from head to toe, seemingly judging him. Then he moved onto Ichigo, his dilated orbs looked harmful and insulting. "You two have fun." His departing words were sharp and loud; as he fled the scene he pulled out his cell phone and pressed it against his ear, Grimmjow wondered who he was reporting to.

"Are you okay?" Ichigo had agitation written all over him, his eyes were wide, he was sweating to no limit and his bloodied hands were shaking. Grimmjow was almost sure that he wasn't trembling because he had punched him; whatever that scoundrel said to Ichigo obviously hit his sensitive spot.

"I'm fine, but you..." Grimmjow wiped the blood from under his nose then spit into the grass. "Do you know that guy?" His voice was deep and husky like, but it would have been more adult like if it didn't sound like he had water up his nose.

"I, uh," Grimmjow arched an eyebrow.

"N-No." Ichigo insisted, looking down at the ground. It seemed he was at a loss, sure he had the right tools to help Grimmjow, but they were at home and bringing him there might come off as creepy.

"I have some bandages at home," The orangette still gazed at the ground as he spoke. "If you, you know..." Grimmjow sighed a wisp of laughter light enough to go unnoticed. The berry was strong _and _shy, he was learning—Grimmjow was relieved to check that box.

Even though the bluenette was almost positive that his roommate would be all over his wound with her dense first aid kit, he just couldn't miss this opportunity. "Okay." Keep it cool and collective, Grimmjow thought to him self.

* * *

Grimmjow imagined maybe a shoe box full of Neosporin and band aids to be hidden away in a cupboard, he didn't expect a full out clinic with the kid's name on it to be towering over him.

Kurosaki Clinic, was it? Grimmjow's Japanese wasn't very sharp.

However, Ichigo was getting paid no attention from Grimmjow. Their guest was caught up in his surroundings, running his fingers along each surface, ogling at everything left and right. Ichigo merely rolled his eyes, he sure looked tough on the outside but that child like twinkle in his eye was what was hidden under that candy coating.

Ichigo held up his finger before leaving the room to fetch some ice. "Here," Ichigo placed it in his palm, only _sometimes _would he glance at this guy's wild eyes that were temporarily plain with peace. He just got punched in the face, Ichigo expected him to be a little more angry, but he wasn't complaining.

"Your parents' business?" Grimmjow knew he was shy and hardy, of course he wasn't going to stop his 'learning' there.

"My dad's," Ichigo rummaged through various white colored cupboards, Grimmjow wasn't really sure what he was looking for, there wasn't much he could possibly do for a such a minor injury.

Ichigo breathed out in relief and turned towards Grimmjow with a roll of gauze in his hand. He ripped a meager piece off and hesitantly approached Grimmjow. Ichigo had a code, like a rule that he subconsciously made to him self. He made it standard that getting close to people was taboo. But he had to help the guy who he just assaulted, right?

"I got it." Grimmjow found him self prying the gauze out of Ichigo's palm, he looked up at the bewildered kid wondering what his deal was.

"Ichigo?" Finally, he snapped out of his puzzlement by the hands of someone other than Grimmjow.

"Dad?" Isshin entered the room, with a white full length coat draped over his shoulders. He glanced over at Grimmjow, he didn't look banged up, or at least he wouldn't have looked like it if he could wipe the blood under his nose with more skill. He noted that Ichigo was closer to the blue haired fellow than he ever was to his own family—physically.

"What happened?" His voice kicked up a few notches in cheerfulness. He addressed Ichigo with a sly grin, Isshin glanced down at his knuckles that were slightly tainted with crimson. It didn't take much for him to put the situation together.

"I—" Grimmjow zipped Ichigo's lips closed with his own voice that blanketed over the orangette.

"I was getting my self into trouble, luckily I left with just this thanks to Kurosaki." Grimmjow pointed to his nose with a comical expression, feeling silly about him self. Isshin appeared skeptical, but brushed it off before continuing on.

He rolled his eyes over to Ichigo and scowled playfully. "Stay outta trouble, both of you." He strolled out of the room collectively, the sound of the door was the last sound that reverberated before the duo were faced with the awkward silence.

After dressing Grimmjow's injury, Ichigo brushed him out the door, the sun was close to setting by the looks of the dimming sky. Before Grimmjow set off for home, they stood in front of the clinic the sweltering heat was finally calming down and a light breeze brushed their skin. Grimmjow could tell that Kurosaki was keeping his distance, he always made sure he stood more than three feet away from him.

"By the way," Grimmjow began, still studying the kid's stubborn figure. "What did that guy want from you?"

Ichigo sighed, he really wished that question wouldn't have come up, the universe had a habit of ignoring his requests. "He wanted a picture." Grimmjow didn't exactly know what that meant, more specifically, what _kind _of picture he meant.

"You know, the Karakura killer thing?" Grimmjow's heart thumped in his chest, it was a frightening feeling, like being caught red handed doing something your not supposed to do, Grimmjow felt like Ichigo was aware of his snooping. But he knew carrot top wasn't about to get into details, that was definite.

"Heard of him, but I..." Grimmjow trailed off, he stared at his face intently, confused as to why Ichigo had such a peculiar expression. He honestly couldn't tell if Ichigo was enlightened by his words or appalled.

"You don't... But have you..." Ichigo's brain was scrambled, he wouldn't be so much as surprised if smoke emerged from his ears. He sighed and shuffled his thoughts, organizing his next words—there was no way he was going to mess this up. "What about the survivor? Have you heard of him?" Grimmjow awed at Ichigo as he witnessed a spark in him, he instantly felt his pride swell. Just like Ichigo, Grimmjow swore he wasn't going to mess this up.

"I don't know who it is if that's what you're wondering."

* * *

A/N: Awww Grimmjow, why did you lie to him? :c

Just for clarification, the guy who harassed Ichigo was Nnoitra. Also, he wanted a picture standing with Ichigo, because I suppose he's kind of famous for surviving Aizen's shenanigan.

The girl at the beginning plays a sizable part in this story, I bet no one knows who it is. ;)

Pretty please review! :D


	5. Coffee Person

A/N: So sorry that I haven't been updating frequently. I just started school again and have been busy. So updates won't be as fast, but not as slow as they have been. :(

I was feeling first person point of view for this update, I'm just experimenting. It helps me get more in depth with the characters-specifically Ichigo. Sooo, this entire chapter is pretty much in his point of view. xD

I have a feeling the female character I spoke of before will become clear by the way.

This one's filled with more angst than I usually write, I hope it goes over well! :D

* * *

Chapter Five, Coffee Person

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The cascading light reflecting off of the white house across the street was always a bummer in the morning; it always worsens my already rotten mood. So, of course, I woke up to it on a regular basis with the exception of rainy days. However, on that note, I quickly found myself loving rainy days despite it's constant reminder of that incident. Blinds serve no justice in my situation, they only cause the sunlight to rain through in ragged stripes. Although, I am grateful for the morning sun. Without it cursing my eyelids and forcing me out of my sleep, I—without a doubt—wouldn't make it to school nearly as often as I do currently.

If the sun wasn't there to start my day, I may have never met Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

That morning I woke up on a different, cheesier note. Even though I could feel the fatigue still lingering on my eyes and persuading me to lay back down and get some much needed sleep, I didn't want to give in. On this day, I woke up without a vendetta on the sun and a slight smile on my face. I'm sure if someone could have seen what took place last night with Grimmjow, then said person might catch on to my unusual, positive demeanor.

It wasn't often that I met someone who didn't know me. When people on the streets saw me, they were always quick to greet me with questions that I certainly did not want to answer.

_"How did you manage to escape?"_

I could never tell a soul that he left me alive on purpose for unspeakable reasons.

When Rukia, Renji, or any of my friends talked to me, the air was thick with awkwardness. It was obvious that it was on their mind- the way they were so cautious around me, that questioning look spread over their complexions. They wanted to ask me about it, make sure I was okay and coping. But when I came across Grimmjow, something seemed to lighten the air.

Despite only meeting Grimmjow once, I immediately took to him when he quickly showed me that he wasn't curious—simply because he just didn't know.

Grimmjow approached _me. _Not the survivor of the Karakura Killer, at least not in his eyes. I had to see him again—and by that, I don't mean a silent gaze across the classroom.

A spark inside my hollow chest lit. I swore something grew between us in that moment.

I wanted to be indulged again by the bliss of his obliviousness. I wanted to talk about Grimmjow, not me, nor... _him_. I wanted him to see me for me and not the label I've obtained.

I wanted him to get to know me.

I wanted to get to know him.

* * *

I was so indulged in my reminiscence of last night, too caught up in seeing that blue haired stalker again, that I forgot yesterday was Friday and today is Saturday, and I still don't know anything about him. But it couldn't wait.

I jogged down stairs with a bounce in my step and a fire in my eyes. Somebody was bound to notice my new character. It had been seventeen months since I had acted like this.

The morning was still fresh, maybe eight. Everybody was up, except for Yuzu. The television was on and my father was watching it in his white coat draped over his shoulders; for once, he was cleanly shaven.

Beyond me, in the kitchen, a consistent crackling noise took place. Karin was frying bacon and eggs.

It smelled nice.

"Good morning, Ichigo." Dad looked over to me with a monotonous face. His voice was calm and careful- cautious, even. I was beginning to dislike it. He had undoubtedly noticed my new behavior.

"_Good _morning." I said, my eyes blinking wider and faster. My father smiled then returned his attention to the weather.

"Ichi, I made you a plate." I nodded. I knew. She made one every time she cooks breakfast. Karin doesn't go all out like Yuzu did or cook all the time, but she had made it apparent that it was now her responsibility rather than Yuzu's.

"Thanks," the word rolled off my tongue awkwardly. I haven't said that to Karin in a long time.

She handed me a fork and a plate already stacked with steaming food. I stabbed at my scalding eggs, not caring that the roof of my mouth will be sore later.

I watched as the news shifted from the weather to current events.

Someone was mugged last night. A woman in her late teens. She escaped without a scratch. I couldn't relate to her probable relief.

I imagine the victim was probably scared for her life, with a gun pointed to her and all. She probably thought that this makes her special for getting away unscathed. But she wasn't bound. Or tortured and sliced. She wasn't raped.

I shivered as I swallowed, accidentally biting my tongue.

Then the news changed again, onto the next current event. The news anchor began with the signature line, "This just in..." So cliché, except this sounded more urgent.

My tongue was burning and I could taste blood, but in a moment, all that would become numb.

"Turn it off." I dropped my fork and it slid onto the floor with a loud noise. My throat tightened. I felt sick and my head became fuzzy.

The television. The woman on the news. It showed me something I thought I had forgotten.

I said it again, "Turn it off." My dad didn't listen. He put his hand over his mouth and stared at the TV.

That face. On the screen. His repulsive face debuting in my house for everyone to see. Karin. She sees the man who tormented me. My dad, he hears his name.

I never told them his name. Everyone thought I didn't know it because that's what I told them.

It's the first time I've heard his name ring in my ears since I screamed it.

"_Aizen...!"_

My chest heaved. I watched with blurry vision as Dad finally turned the TV off, a little too late to matter at this point.

"Ichigo?" I think my dad said my name. "This is good."

_Good? _How was this good?

"He's gone now, he's in jail."

Maybe I would have felt a little better if he was in prison for raping a fifteen year old boy. But he was just a suspect, they already brushed him off long ago. There wasn't enough "evidence". Ridiculous. He was on the screen for a DUI and was in jail for assaulting the officer that caught him.

I didn't respond to my dad. Instead, I ran to the bathroom and threw up my barely eaten breakfast. After that, I went back to bed and stayed there until the afternoon.

When I woke up, only one thing was on my mind. The only thing that would rid my mind of that man. I needed to get out and just forget.

There was one place I could find what I was looking for- maybe. Thanks to Ms. Ochi, that is.

* * *

Yoruichi always had such nice fur. It wasn't thick enough to call her a fur ball, however she wasn't lacking in the hair department by any means either.

My fingers disappeared into her ebony coat. My longish nails probably felt like ecstasy to her. The way she purred always intrigued me. When Ichi rolled against my thigh—the little motor within her rumbled, tickling me and covering me with goosebumps. She would keep on doing so until I finally gave into her begging.

"Grimm..." _Her_ voice was deep and raspy. By her tone, she seemed meaning to ask something. The woman laid across from me with her limbs sprawled out on the couch. Her hair was disheveled. It still didn't look bad though. She wore tiny pajamas, her bottom threatening to fall out and flash me. Her chest was a whole other story. Sometimes I wondered how she could see past her boobs.

However, I wasn't attracted to her in the slightest. Not just because of my sexuality either. Her vast blue hair might give some people the idea as to why I don't like her romantically.

"What is it?" I knew what she was going to say, but I really didn't want to hear it.

"Are you going to the public library soon?"

_Damn. _I knew it. She wanted me to do the research I was telling her about. She cares about me, my grades. I really wish she didn't.

"Uhh—"

She cut me off, almost comically. "On your way back, would you pick up some milk?"

I sighed and smiled. I guess I was going to the library—oh, and the grocery store. If I could find it.

* * *

Yasodhara...

Yasodhara...

_... Grimmjow._

Fuck.

I couldn't stop thinking about him. My nerves ate at me. They tore my attention span apart. I could feel the butterflies raging in my stomach.

_This feels like a bad idea._

I scanned the book shelves for a book about this Indian woman, trying to grasp some knowledge as to who she was.

Ah. A book about Nepal. Looks promising.

My head bolted up from the pages after hearing the chimes by the entrance ring, my hopes augmented—but quickly crushed as an unfamiliar face lurks in. It wasn't Grimmjow.

I scanned the index; the pages were yellowing and some were tattered and folded. I wondered how old the book was. Older than me, perhaps.

I found an ample chunk of the book dedicated to my person of interest. And yes, I mean Yasodhara. She was a princess. Her prince was Japan and China's light, the guided way. Siddhartha Gautama, or more commonly known as Buddha. She was lucky to have had such a man, though her time with him wasn't during his road to enlightenment. He left her and his son. According to the book, Buddha meditated for days on end during his journey to Nirvana. But to me, that seems a little fixed.

I hadn't touched the bookshelf, instead choosing to stand close to the middle of the aisle, but for some reason, books began to slip out and land on my toes. Someone was across from me, in the next aisle. Books on his side seemed to be hogging some space on the shelves, resulting in the ones on my side to be discarded. A bruising feeling stained my feet and I bellowed out rudely.

Someone flew out of the other aisle and into mine. I crouched down and began to restore the books to their original place. I looked up.

Grimmjow was helping me put them back.

Wait, what?

"Oi!" I said, trying to get his attention. I felt my face get hot when he looked at me. His eyes are so warm and remind me of a cloudless day. He looked just as surprised as I am.

"Kurosaki! I didn't know it was you." His eyes closed as he chuckled.

I noticed a small cut on the tip of his nose accompanied by a purple bruise. Guilt settles at the pit of my stomach. Did I really hit him that hard?

"Yeah." The butterflies fluttered in my stomach again. Only this time, it was more like a pin ball machine inside me. I didn't know what to say, resulting in me mentally panicking, which only extended the awkward silence between us.

I didn't plan this far ahead.

"What brings you here?"

_Shit. _I'm so stupid. Why else would he be at the library? I hope he doesn't answer that.

"Research," he says as he stands up straight. "You know, for Ms. Ochi's project?"

I nodded.

He offered his hands and helped me to my feet. His hands were clammy on my burning ones.

Something in me didn't feel right. It was hard for me to speak to him. I don't get it. I felt so eager to see him before. It was a necessity. But now? The feeling burning through me was inexplicable yet so vivid. I took a few steps back from him but it didn't help.

"You here alone?"

"Yeah." My face was cold, my eyes dim.

Clearly, I had made my timidness apparent. Grimmjow took to it, he didn't want to pry.

I realized then that I really didn't know him. I shouldn't have been so interested in him, it was wrong to be intrigued— it was for the wrong reasons.

I don't like this. I don't know why, I just don't.

I shouldn't have any interest in Grimmjow. He doesn't know me, we're strangers.

But wasn't that why I was here? _Because _we're strangers? I shouldn't have any interest in him, but I do.

He must have something on me because he hasn't moved, despite me snapping myself shut on him. He stared at me, but didn't lurk closer and he didn't touch me. It was like he knew. I countered that thought in my head, reminded myself that he doesn't know anything.

Finally he spoke, his voice quiet. It was quite fitting, considering the setting. "Do you wanna sit with me?"

I nodded.

I don't know why but I do. My motives were still fresh in my mind and they were fighting my urge to leave.

I sat down across from him. His forearms rested on the cool wooden surface next to mine. I could see how different we were just by looking at our hands. His are bulky and tan, and small scars are on each hand. Mine are a smooth whiter color, my fingernails are longer than his. I feel skinny compared to him.

The quietness between us eventually calmed me and my shoulders relaxed as I breathed out heavily.

Minutes passed by.

"So," I began, closing my book on top of my fingers to preserve my spot. "Why are you in Japan?"

Grimmjow looked up at me. He sighed. "Family."

It fell quiet again. I don't know what to say now.

"That guy bother you again?" My eyes shot up and met his. I didn't expect that. The answer is easy and clear, but I couldn't assert it so I shake my head no.

"Good." His words were clipped. He didn't seem curious, considering I never actually told him why that man was harassing me. It was nice. It made me feel good.

"How's your..." I pointed to my face. The guilt caused my throat to swell. I wished he was more angry with me for hitting him.

"Hurts," he said. His fingers lingered around his face but stayed a good few inches away from actual contact. One corner of my mouth curled upward on my face, I wouldn't want to touch it either. "At least that skinny guy didn't hit you."

I'm curious, frightened and flattered. It's a bizarre combination.

"I never said thank you." I sucked in a lung full of air. I've been waiting for this moment to thank him. "You covered my ass... My dad believed you."

Grimmjow's brows came together and his eyes widened a little. He looks surprised but flattered. "No problem."

Conversation is brief. It feels like both of us were thinking the same thing, but neither of us wanted to bring it to light.

"I feel bad about punching you too." I finally blurt out. With that out in the open, I feel like weight dropped from my shoulders.

"It'll heal." Grimmjow's eyes focused on his book. He's distant. Maybe he's uncomfortable. I should stop talking.

But I don't. I don't want to.

"But still..." I jumped as he closed the book abruptly. His forehead creased and the rest of his face is tense.

"I could treat you," I began, but immediately Grimmjow looks confused.

"No, no. You already helped me."

"I could take you out for some tea."

Grimmjow's face relaxes when I clarify. He smiled. "Okay." He said the word so quietly and soothingly, it feels like it dusts across my cheeks.

"Wait," he said and my stomach dropped. "Make it coffee." I smiled at him.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes until my phone rings. I excused myself from the library.

The number had the same area code as mine, but other than that it was not a number I knew. "Hello?"

The other end was quiet for a few seconds. "Ichigo?" A slightly upbeat voice that I didn't recognize shot into my ear.

Unease pricked at my senses. "Yeah...?" My voice cracked. I looked inside to see if Grimmjow caught up to me yet. He had not.

"How are you?"

"Who is this?"

"It sure has been a while."

"Who are you?"

"Seventeen months is a long time."

I couldn't explain in words what I felt in that moment. The world went black for a few seconds. I suddenly felt unsafe. A million eyes had to be gawking now, all of them _his_.

I hung up the phone.

I don't remember what happened after that.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the cliff hanger (not really :P). :c I was going to keep the chapter going, but I wanted to update sooner. I hope I surprised some of you, I bet everyone knows who called Ichigo. I even bet no one knew this person would show up so soon. :D

The next chapter will definitely pick up more romance between Grimmjow and Ichigo. Grimmjow is going to throw Ichigo the long awaited life raft. :)

Soo, first person pov or third? I'm not sure which one I like better. :)


	6. The Capture

A/N: Sorry, this is a late update, I was having terrible writer's block. I kept rewriting this chapter and I think I finally nailed it. Let me know? (:

Thanks so much,** JoanIncarnate**, you are like the world's best beta reader. :) You all should go to her profile and check out her stories**** :D

* * *

Chapter Six, The Capture

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Grimmjow sat and waited in the spot Ichigo had left him. He was sitting so patiently for over twenty minutes. He flipped through his book, checked his phone but the time wasn't passing by any faster. Soon, Grimmjow became slightly worried. Perhaps Ichigo left him without warning?

Grimmjow brushed the thought off and rose to his feet. He picked up the book he was studying and started towards the checkout. But before he could flee completely, he looked over his shoulder at the book Ichigo had. Grimmjow figured he should go ahead and grab it before leaving the library; especially if Carrot Top hadn't planned on coming back. It definitely seemed to look that way by the vacant scene beyond the windows. Grimmjow sighed realizing that he just got stood up. He didn't feel as insulted as he did disappointed. Ichigo must have had a good reason, though, he didn't seem the type to be so bluntly rude.

In the end it didn't matter to Grimmjow. He wasn't going to take this as a hint to give up. Instead he took it as a challenge.

When Grimmjow slapped the books on the desk, the woman standing before him jumped. Her eyes were the size of saucers as she studied the peculiar man in front of her. Never in her life had she encountered someone with brilliant blue hair and eyes to match. He was tall and broad, his tense face intimidated the small framed girl as she shakily scanned the books. Grimmjow breathed out through his nose audibly, quickly growing impatient with the woman and her ridiculous questions. No, he didn't have a membership and no, he didn't want one.

As he exited the library, he observed his surroundings, scoping out any orange he could see. His senses didn't present him with what he wanted. So the berry had ditched him after all.

He rolled his eyes. It was a good thing Grimmjow Jaegerjaques didn't give up so easily.

He tucked the books under his arm and began towards the sidewalk. That is, until he kicked something clear across the walkway.

A cell phone.

_Ichigo's _cell phone.

Grimmjow picked it up and noticed the illuminated screen. There was an ongoing phone call. He pressed it to his ear hesitantly—Grimmjow knew he would regret this later.

"Hello?"

All he could hear was a flat noise on the other side. The call had gotten disconnected. He glanced back at the screen which revealed a number that Ichigo's phone hadn't recognized in his contacts, indicating that the person was probably anonymous to Ichigo.

Grimmjow added the kid's phone to his item count and deserted the library. He wasn't going to pass on that coffee date, that much was absolute.

* * *

Ichigo stared at his dirty shoes as they swung back and forth. Every time the swing dove towards the ground and his feet scraped the damp soil, the friction would cause the swing to halt before Ichigo kicked off again. He wasn't exactly sure how he had gotten where he was, or even where these damnable gray clouds had come from. He was sure that it had been sunny before at the library. They blocked the view of the pretty orange sun and deepened Ichigo's melancholy mood.

But what did he know?

After all, he thought that man was in jail.

He thought that he would never have to see or speak to that man again.

Ichigo had believed he was safe. But really, no where was safe. Not even his own home. Aizen blatantly proved that to Ichigo and now he was forced to remember how he did. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, they stung and his vision blurred. When the wind blew, the water fell from his eyes as if the gust blew it out of him.

He shuddered at the memories that were forced through his mind. Every last one replayed and he remembered things he swore to never think of again. Things that Aizen said. Things that Ichigo said.

"_Aizen...!"_

Ichigo's voice bellowed out at the flashback. He choked on his tears, stopping him from crying out. The rain fell in a light mist, cooling Ichigo's face and eventually hiding his tears.

He wondered why this shit had to happen to him. Why had Aizen chosen him? Why did he have to torment Ichigo so vastly?

Why didn't he just kill him when he finished?

The rain poured at that last thought. Ichigo sucked his breath and sighed a light laugh. Aizen had told Ichigo that he wasn't finished with him. He told him that he was coming back. Did that phone call mean that that day was coming closer? Was Aizen keeping his word?

Ichigo kicked the ground and pushed his back into the air. The rain came at him faster when he swung. He didn't care though. In fact, he had hardly registered the rain. He didn't even know where he was or how to get home and he didn't have a phone to call for help.

"Coffee?"

Ichigo's heels dug into the ground as his body hurled backwards. His body came to a sudden stop and didn't move after that. It was Grimmjow. How did he find him?

"How did you find me?"

Grimmjow walked around to face Ichigo who in turn stood up, now seeing eye to eye with the blue haired boy. "I'm on my way home. I _was_ lookin' for ya, but then it started to rain..." He looked up at the gloomy sky and squinted at the falling drops. "You stood me up."

Ichigo winced. His words felt like a scrape across his chest. He sounded innocent- disappointed even, which only made Ichigo feel worse.

"Oh... I... Sorry." His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to confide in this blue haired boy, wanted to just let his feelings out, yet the fact that he and Grimmjow were practically strangers stopped him. Logically, it was a terrible idea.

"You, uh, forgot this too." Grimmjow shoved his hand in his jeans pocket and revealed a slightly damaged cell phone. After being dropped onto the concrete by Ichigo, then kicked several feet along said concrete by Grimmjow, it didn't quite look the same.

Ichigo noticed the drink carrier in his hand and the two coffee cups housing them. It was apparent that Grimmjow had been looking forward to their little date and went out of his way to find him even after Ichigo had abandoned him. That said something to Ichigo that he wasn't willing to admit.

It made his heart swell, if only a little.

"Do ya' wanna talk about it?" Grimmjow set the books and drink carrier in his arms down on the ground, temporarily relieving the stress from holding all those things.

He studied the boy in front of him before meeting back up with his eyes.

His skin was crawling with goosebumps and the hairs on his arms stood up. His whole body quivered, yet his posture was stiff. He had obviously been crying; his red nose and glassy eyes were enough evidence. Ichigo's slim shoulders were closer up to his neck than usual and the kid's collar bone was much more prominent. The hair on his head was flat against his forehead and darker from the rain. Ichigo looked so petrified at the moment, Grimmjow pitied him. Yet he also found it a turn on that he could be so vulnerable and obvious about it.

"I don't really know..." Ichigo wasn't sure what to tell him, nor did he know how to transform it into words. _Did_ he want to talk about it? Now was a good time to find an answer to that, seeing as though Grimmjow was expecting a little more than an 'I don't know'. Right now, he felt like he should at least tell Grimmjow why he stood him up. Although he didn't just feel obligated.

He _wanted _to tell Grimmjow. Or at least someone who wouldn't judge him; and that person was seemingly Grimmjow. Ichigo rubbed his temples-it was so confusing to him, he always came back to the same question that urgently needed an answer.

Ichigo didn't know why, but he felt more comfortable with his current situation than he had with any other person. Even though he was feeling slightly pressured, he wanted to shred Grimmjow's ear off with every little sickening detail of his experience. Ichigo wondered what kind of reaction he would in turn receive if he did something so rash.

Grimmjow shuffled a little closer to Ichigo, their feet merely a couple of inches away from each other. He stared hard at Ichigo while he stared down at the ground.

"Well, can I ask you about it?"

Ichigo's chest swelled. He could feel the pulsing feeling in his throat. The man was so gentle. He wasn't pushy and was the perfect amount of cautious. He didn't make Ichigo feel like he _had _to say yes to that, but Grimmjow made him want to.

"S-Sure."

Grimmjow wasted no time at all. A slight concerning smile tugged at his lips before he began.

"Did I do something to make you leave?"

Ichigo's heart sank when he heard that. Clearly he had portrayed the wrong message to Grimmjow, but he couldn't find the words to mend him.

"No."

"So then..." Ichigo waited for him to continue. "It was the guy on the phone?"

"Y-Yeah."

Grimmjow sighed at his one word answer. He kind of wished Ichigo would elaborate. Grimmjow was doing all the work here.

The rain slowed a bit, but the wind subbed in and blew the cold water onto their faces harshly. Ichigo shivered and balled his fists. The coffee was looking better and better assuming it wasn't cold by now.

"Do you know that person?" The words flowed from his mouth smoothly, but pierced Ichigo like an arrow. He found himself becoming more and more reluctant as the interrogation continued.

"Yes." Ichigo grumbled through his teeth. Tears in the back of his eyes threatened to stream down his face, but he fought them.

"Does this guy... scare you?"

Another arrow pummeled through Ichigo.

Grimmjow edged a littler closer. The rain reflected off their bodies and created a mist that mingled between the duo. He could hear Ichigo heaving now past the rain. His chest pumped in and out relentlessly and every once in a while his breath was choppy as he breathed a lungful in.

Ichigo thought about his answer. He knew the answer was yes, but was caught in a trance. He stood in a daze thinking about _why _Aizen frightened him so.

_So much wet heat. So much fear. So much torment... _

That's when he lost it. He walked backwards, his head shook back and forth as his hands were brought up to meet his face. Ichigo couldn't control the intense weeping that escaped his lips, he fell backwards and plopped down on the swing. He breathed so heavy and violently now that he choked a little on his spit. His mind was slowly creeping into chaos, soon he would run away. It was just his brain's way to defend, to isolate himself.

"Ichigo," Grimmjow's voice blared at said person for the fourth time. He walked closer to him, calling his name out, but it was like he didn't even hear him. He wasn't exactly sure how he set the fuse to Ichigo's emotions but he did and now he was beginning to regret it. Grimmjow found it obvious that the answer to his last question was yes.

"Hey!" He tore the kid's hands from his face and clenched them with all his might. Ichigo looked up, his face was a mess now. Grimmjow felt bad for stirring up the pit of sadness Ichigo seemed to have. So he grasped his palm harder, until Ichigo's fingertips turned white. His hands didn't grip back, instead they pulled with a strong force. Ichigo panicked more and scrambled to his feet, he tried to rip his hands away, it only resulted in Grimmjow accentuating his grip.

"Get a hold of yourself!"

Everything Ichigo was doing finally slowed. He still struggled to rid himself of Grimmjow's grasp, but he knew it was a wasted effort. Grimmjow was obviously stronger than him.

"Hey..." Grimmjow's voice was raspy and strained but it was so gentle and luxurious. It reverberated in Ichigo's stomach and pooled in his groin. The orange haired teen blushed. He could feel the scarlet top his nose and ears.

Finally, Grimmjow's grip loosened, leaving Ichigo with a little wiggle room. Both of the teens stiffened their now still posture as they realized their situation. Ichigo, being a little more embarrassed than Grimmjow, willed himself not to look at the boy's eyes. He knew that he was staring at him. He could feel the blue orbs boring into his skull.

Ichigo shrugged his shoulders and kicked the dirt in front of him. Grimmjow let go of his left hand and nudged his chin to look at him. As his face tilted up to face Grimmjow's, his eyes stayed coupled with the ground.

"Ichigo." The kid's eyes flickered up to Grimmjow's with a sour expression.

"Sorry." Grimmjow asserted despite his tense jaw that was clenching and unclenching. "I didn't mean to make you..." His sentence trailed off. He didn't really want to say what he did. He already felt like shit about it.

"No, it's okay." In truth, Ichigo needed it. He hadn't realized that, though, and would probably be unwilling to admit.

The rain finally became a filler for the silence between the two. They were both soaking wet at this point and were starting to notice it. The sun had shown through the cloud a little bit, but the rain carried on in heavy drops. Ichigo could feel the water soaking through his shoes and dampening even his feet.

"If you want... My house is right over there, I could get you outta the rain." Grimmjow twisted his head around and pointed at the top floor of an apartment complex.

Ichigo studied the two chairs that sat on the balcony, getting drenched by the rain. He was right, his home was right over there and it beat trying to find his way home in this gruesome weather. Besides, regardless of the rain, Ichigo sort of wanted to follow Grimmjow anyway. He didn't know why, maybe the venting had gone to his head, but he wanted to string out whatever this was. Whether it be a date or a friendly encounter.

"That would be nice. Grimmjow."

Grimmjow's body shuddered when he heard his own name rolling off the berry's tongue. He made him love his name by the way he said it. Even if not intended, it seduced Grimmjow. A slight grin sprouted on his face and eventually he was lugging Ichigo by the hand towards his apartment. This day was definitely different from what Grimmjow had expected it to be, but he wasn't complaining by any means.

He budged a little when he felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket.

He forgot to pick up milk for his sister, Nel.

Oh well. It was probably the best day he'd had in Karakura so far.

* * *

A/N: AHHH! So it's Nel! :D

Hope you guys liked this chapter because it was a bitch trying to write. xc

Thanks for reading, and sorry for the wait.


	7. Giddy Routine

A/N: Thanks to **GrimmKitty1325 **and **MMagnet. **Your guys' reviews always have me smiling stupid. :D

This story is finally starting to escalate, and every chapter is just gonna get more intense as they go.

* * *

Chapter Seven, Giddy Routine

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

By now, it was drawing near dismissal. The usually rowdy class was completely unmoved and the sound of the ticking clock crept by so slow it might as well have been still. Ichigo felt his usual end-of-the-day high surge through him as the teacher said her last words, egging Ichigo on with "Now, before you leave...". He tapped his foot on the ground, moving so fast that his shoe was a blur. His body hardly depended on the chair below him, for his unmoving leg was pushing him up in anticipation. He even chewed his fingernails during this time of the day—a nervous habit he wished he would have never picked back up from the time when—

_Finally._

The bell blared throughout the classroom, shoving all those routine giddy feelings into his system as he propelled himself up with formality. Not to mention a pained expression. Even though Ichigo had waited the entire day for this, and reminisced about it when it was over with, he just couldn't swallow everything that happened in the moment.

With much reluctance, Ichigo forced the golf ball of nerves down his throat and moved his feet across the floor. He started towards that magnetic head of blue hair.

"Hey, Ichigo." Grimmjow's deep voice was like velvety chocolate to Ichigo. He absolutely adored his name coming from this guy. "Comin' over?"

Ichigo winced slightly at the volume of his voice. He glanced around the classroom to see if any familiar faces picked up on that last part. After all, he was still laying low. He didn't want any of his former friends to know that he was hanging out with Grimmjow on a regular basis. Ichigo didn't know why, but he didn't want people to know that he had a friend—if he could call him that. He wasn't ready to talk to his old friends again. This one friend was good enough for now.

Plus, Ichigo didn't even know if his old friends _wanted _to associate with him again. He had treated them roughly, but there were certain circumstances during that time.

Ichigo thought he was quite slick when it came to this situation at hand. It had been about three weeks since Grimmjow took the initiative and urged Ichigo to hang out with him; so far, no one had noticed their growing friendship.

"I left my book at home."

Grimmjow gave him his notorious goofy grin when he heard that and shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and fourth on his heels. "Then I guess we're makin' a pit stop." Grimmjow held his smile in place, tapping Ichigo on the shoulder to initiate their departure.

By now, it was some kind of routine for the duo. Every other day, Ichigo and Grimmjow helped each other with their school work. Though lately, they had been working on Ms. Ochi's project and it was obvious that neither needed help from each other. However, that was never said out loud; it was the only thing that kept them coming back for each other without saying directly that they just wanted to see one another. True, they had a delicate and awkward system, but it was beneficial in so many ways to the both of them.

Grimmjow was therapeutic to Ichigo and Ichigo was the very defibrillator that shocked him back to life.

* * *

The time that had passed since their first real encounter was a smooth ride. A bit slow and sometimes boring, but smooth and flawless. Grimmjow had Ichigo comfortably in his palm, resting and relying on Grimmjow. It felt good to be the escape Ichigo seemed to be looking for, even though it wasn't easy. Sometimes he pried too much, sometimes he made the wrong move and unknowingly triggered a scene almost identical to that day at the park. Grimmjow still tried to ease Ichigo along his path to recovery in spite of any relapses. His training wheels were still far from being removed and he still had Grimmjow's hand on him, pushing him along but it was still a start, to at least be moving at all.

Soon enough, Grimmjow would have Ichigo going about without his help opening up to people—Grimmjow was his trial run. Then, he could make his move and tell him how he felt about him. Eventually, Grimmjow could express to Ichigo how everything about him was absolutely alluring. The way his porcelain-like hands laced through his hair, exposing his forehead on one of the many sweltering summer days. His squared away jaw that tensed up when he talked about something uncomfortable—usually bits and pieces of his experience from a year and a half ago.

He absolutely could not wait to open up to Ichigo and put his hands on him. Ever since Grimmjow had seen the kid, something drew him in. It started with his innocent yet fierce face. Right away, Grimmjow could tell there was something behind that expression of his and it didn't take him long to unravel Ichigo's past.

Grimmjow knew that it was his staged obliviousness that had Ichigo opening up to him little by little each time they saw each other. He wasn't planning on asking anything that would give himself away, because then there would be nothing left and Grimmjow's chances would diminish.

Ichigo was fragile, and even though Grimmjow didn't think he had the skills to hold him delicately, he seemed to be doing an okay job.

Grimmjow waited in the foyer of Ichigo's home while he retrieved his book for their project.

It was awkward. His family was in plain view from where he was and they seemed to notice him and adjust accordingly. He could hear someone bustling around in the kitchen, probably making dinner. The scent filled the Kurosaki home to the brim. As Grimmjow breathed in and out through his nose, he could almost swear it was stew.

A man with ebony hair, Ichigo's dad it seemed, sat on the couch in what looked like the family room. His arm rested on the back of the couch around a small figure with shoulder length ash blond hair. He turned his head around and gazed at Grimmjow with a decisive face then tapped the girl on the shoulder and briefly said something to her, apparently shooing her away.

The man jerked his head towards the TV while keeping his eyes in Grimmjow's direction, which he took as a hint and walked into the main room. Ichigo's dad stood up and put his hand out.

"Isshin Kurosaki," he said, his handshake firm and lengthy. "You a friend of my son's?"

Grimmjow swallowed. He could feel the intimidation this guy was trying to demonstrate. "Yessir." He took a step back and watched as Isshin sat back down on the couch, staring at the television screen.

"What's yer name?"

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques."

"Nice to meet ya, Grimmjow. Why donthcha' have a seat?" Isshin patted the couch cushion.

Grimmjow sat down and stared at the TV, unsure of what else to do.

Silence as far as conversation went stretched on for a minute or two. Grimmjow wondered what was holding up Ichigo, he was getting uncomfortable sitting here with this guy who obviously didn't like the idea of him befriending Ichigo.

"So, you and my son..." He rubbed his stubbly chin. Isshin grunted through his teeth, showing reluctance towards his words. "Are you two friends, or...?"

Grimmjow forced his laughter back down before he could answer that. So he knew his son was gay?

"He's a classmate. We're helping each other with homework."

Isshin didn't respond for several seconds, his eyes dim and his lips turned down. "Right."

Grimmjow sighed. This guy was being a real ass. His sarcasm was dry and cliché—frustrating too.

"You know Ichigo is... delicate."

Grimmjow grinned and huffed out a breath. Isshin was clearly worried about his son and saw Grimmjow as a potential threat. "I know."

"Well, the thing is—"

"Grimmjow?" Ichigo's voice rang from the bottom of the stairs. Both men turned to see him, his eyes ogling at the scene before him.

"'Bout time," Grimmjow jerked his body off of the couch and walked towards Ichigo, who seemed to be flustered.

"L-Lets go." Ichigo walked through the door, not waiting on Grimmjow. His face was flushed as he left, leaving a confused Grimmjow and a concerned father.

Ichigo waited outside on the sidewalk impatiently, his foot tapping on the ground with his arms crossed. He couldn't believe what he had just heard coming from his dad. He was smothering Grimmjow with questions that didn't concern him! Who cared if they were together?! It wasn't any of his dad's business! Ichigo was beyond relieved that he had walked in before his father unstuck the glue that bounded Ichigo and Grimmjow. He could swear his father was about to initiate a conversation about Aizen. The way he talked about Ichigo being _delicate _was more than enough proof.

The sound of the front door swinging open made Ichigo jump. A hand landed on Ichigo's bicep and gripped with light force.

"What's wrong?" Grimmjow questioned him, his brows furrowed with angry concern. The rest of his face looked curious; Ichigo didn't like that.

"Nothing. Are we going?" Ichigo grabbed Grimmjow's wrist like a dirty napkin and pushed it away before storming forward.

The blunette quickly became frustrated. He wanted to scream out at Ichigo and just tell him that he didn't have to worry because he already knew. But he knew that was taboo, so he held his tongue, counted to three in his head and breathed before walking forward, changing his tone to something more sincere.

"Ichigo?"

"What?" He spat.

Grimmjow balled his fists up until his palms stung and his knuckles bleached white.

_One, two... Ah, fuck it._

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Grimmjow resumed his grip on Ichigo's arm, this time shaking him slightly.

"I already said nothin—"

"Bullshit," Grimmjow looked him in the eyes with his cold hard ones. "What was your dad talking about?"

"I don't know," Ichigo hissed through clenched teeth, his sultry brown eyes meeting aqua ones.

Grimmjow grunted loudly, mercilessly expressing his anger. Why couldn't Ichigo just tell him? Why was he so secretive? It wasn't a big deal to Grimmjow, so why couldn't he just spit it out?! He wasn't going to be scared away.

"Fine," Ichigo said, and Grimmjow let go of him. "It's this thing that happened almost eighteen months ago. My dad was trying to tell you about it."

Grimmjow's breathing slowed and he finally regained calmness. He waited for Ichigo to go on. Assuming— _hoping_ he did, that is.

"But..."

The air grew thin suddenly and Grimmjow anticipated a confession full of melancholy.

"... I don't want to tell you."

"Why?" Grimmjow hated the suspense. He wanted to hear it in black and white, yet instead he was playing these ridiculous games.

"B-Because... you'll leave."

_Huh?_ What was Carrot Top rambling about? Why would Grimmjow leave him if he confessed?

"That's stupid."

"What?"

"Why would what your dad was so casually about to tell me make me leave you?" Grimmjow smiled at that on the inside. They almost sounded like a couple. It gave him giddy butterflies.

"Well, everyone else did."

Grimmjow didn't have to question him there. He knew where he was going with this. "You think I'm like them?"

"No," Ichigo slowly began to close up. His anger and fear was building up again. He wished Grimmjow would just drop it and respect that he didn't want to recite his life story. Besides, if he told Grimmjow, there was no going back.

Grimmjow planted his feet firmly in the ground, waiting for the other to continue.

Ichigo sighed and crossed his arms, his book still in tow.

"Then what is it?"

"I just— I don't want you to see me differently." He breathed heavily and willed his angry tears away before elaborating. "I want to tell you. But not yet. So can you just drop it?"

They both stood in front of each other for a long while before either one said a thing. Grimmjow wanted so bad to tell him no and demand an explanation, but he wasn't going to do that. For now, he decided to respect Ichigo's request.

"Okay," he breathed.

Ichigo showed a slight smile before beginning their route to Grimmjow's, each of them silent on their way there. The entire time, Grimmjow's nerves picked at him; he was so frustrated that Ichigo wouldn't confide in him. Did he not trust him after three weeks? How long would it take before Ichigo wouldn't need those damnable training wheels any more?

Grimmjow sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He really hated this whole "being patient" thing.

* * *

A week later, Grimmjow had completely stopped bugging Ichigo about what happened to him and started focusing on their relationship again. As badly as he wanted to hear the truth come from Ichigo, he knew he would have to wait, even it was killing him.

It had been some time since the whole class was present all at once. Ms. Ochi was elated to put it lightly, but no one knew why.

Renji was chatting up a storm with some girl across the room. She was the definition of why he was gay. Besides her lack of attractiveness, she was pushy towards Renji. It killed him knowing that Renji was at her beck and call simply because he had the hots for her. She had short black hair, a lanky figure; no breasts or bosom. Her fingers were long and bony and her fingernails were perfectly groomed. The girl's eyes were doll-like and fitting coupled with her bob cut. She was intimidating too, and it was hard watching especially since she knew she was. Everything about her was repulsive to Grimmjow. Hereally didn't know what Renji saw in her, but Grimmjow was a rather rash person.

When class officially started, Ichigo glanced up towards Grimmjow to see if he was offering any glances. He was slowly becoming more comfortable with him and slightly regretted not telling him about Aizen last week. But he had all the time in the world, so he brushed his guilt off within a few days.

Ichigo was disappointed to see that Grimmjow's attention was directed towards Renji. The two were talking in their seats. Every once in a while, Renji would turn his head and gaze at Rukia. Ichigo knew he had had a crush on her since the seventh grade, but had always been too timid to tell her about it and she was too dense to realize it. It could be painful, sometimes, watching as they flirted but nowadays, for obvious reasons, Ichigo didn't feel a need to worry about them.

"Good morning class!" Ms. Ochi, acting as perturbed as always, was looping loose strands of hair behind her ear and adjusting her glasses, removing the glare from Ichigo's perspective. "I hope you all did your homework because we'll be doing partner work with it today."

Ichigo sighed. He really hoped that she was choosing the partners for them. He hated being the last person with no one to work with, which was always the case.

"These partners you're all getting will be your partners for the next part of your project!"

Now Ichigo really felt like he was in hell. This wasn't how he operated. His partner would probably be someone who didn't like him, then they would most likely embarrass him by asking for someone else. He always ended up not doing any work and got a bad grade in return.

"So let's begin." Ms. Ochi scurried over to her desk and snatched up a crumpled piece of paper before returning to the board. "You— Asano, and Arisawa— will be together."

Keigo growled in his seat before leaving his chair under protest.

"Inoue and Ishida." These two seemed fitting. Though that didn't need to be explained, especially since the duo turned and smiled at each other in sync. Uryuu gathered his things and met at Orihime's desk. Ichigo imagined their future grade, then felt blue as he compared it to his likely grade.

The teacher went on to pair off the rest of the class, organizing Orihime's friends with other people that Ichigo hadn't really talked to, and paired Rukia with Grimmjow, before finally debuting Ichigo's partner: Renji.

As Renji approached his desk, Ichigo felt butterflies in him and his throat swell. He hadn't talked to Renji for at least ten months, but it was a mutual distance. Which made this all the more awkward. He imagined his former friend asking for some kind of refund. Ichigo knew he wasn't wanted. He wouldn't want to be with him either.

"Uh, hey," Renji said. He placed his half-finished homework on top of Ichigo's. His barely legible handwriting was painfully familiar —pure chicken scratch.

"Hey." Ichigo hung his head low. He played with his mechanical pencil, pushing the lead in and out until it finally broke.

"Who'd ya get?" Renji asked, seemingly more open than anticipated.

"Queen Yasodhara."

"Oh."

"You?"

"Buddha."

"Oh. Cool."

Ichigo sighed. This was terrible. The exact definition of awkward.

Renji played with his hair, twisting the strands and chewing on them. A nervous habit he'd had since the beginning of time. Ichigo just stared at him, confused. It had been a while since he had really gotten a good glance at Abarai. His forehead was covered with a burgundy bandanna and his arms were newly tattooed since the last time they had talked. Ichigo thought about complimenting his arms, but scratched that thought.

He thought about how he himself had changed too. His hair was shaggier and his eyes were less dark but he was still in the midst of changing, so he couldn't really say anything specifically.

"So," Renji said, running his fingers effortlessly through a tuft of red hair. "How have you been?"

Ichigo was astonished to hear that Renji was trying to hold a conversation. It had been so long since he even heard his voice, he had to take a few seconds before answering him to let it sink in.

"Good. Er, better."

Renji smiled. "Cool."

Ichigo felt like he had to grab his chin to keep it from dropping.

_Renji fucking smiled. And at Ichigo too._

Having just one friend was a distant thought now. Ichigo decided that everything he had felt about this project was wrong. His appeals changed just then: he wanted to mend his relationships.

He wanted to be like his old self.

* * *

The glass before the man would have been perfectly transparent if it weren't for the ridiculous handprints plastered all over it. Finger smudges and pen marks polluted his vision.

It was repulsive.

It was just like everything else here; the cells, the people, the rules. Visitation hours were a hassle as well and he only got to make a phone call every once in a while.

A loud security buzz echoed on the other side faintly and the man sitting behind the glass watched closely as his long awaited visitor entered. His piano toothed grin stretched across his face as he sized up the brunette sitting hopelessly on the other side. He sat down and picked up the phone, pressing it to his ear.

"Man, Sousuke, orange isn't your color," he said mischievously into the phone.

"Oh, but orange is my favorite color." The man's voice was perfectly smooth and calm.

The visitor began to cackle again at that, holding the phone away briefly, before taking note that Aizen wasn't much for jesting.

"Nnoi, have you made any progress?"

"Yes. I've seen 'im a couple times."

"How is he?" Aizen sighed into the phone, sounding for all the world like a hopeless romantic.

Nnoitra grinned before continuing, "He's got a friend now." He winked. "I think he could be a problem though. He's always with 'em."

Aizen frowned and balled his fist up. He removed his glasses from his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. This time his voice was choppy with anger. "Nnoi."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll get on it, don't worry."

Aizen returned back to his bliss filled mood as if nothing happened. He ran his hand through his hair, plowing it away from his face with the exception of a single thick strand.

"And what about the money? Have you gotten it?" Sousuke twirled the cold telephone wire between his fingers seductively.

"Yep. I'm ready when you are, boss."

"Perfect," the cool, smiling voice traveled through the phone.

Nnoitra shuddered. The guy was so demented and so collective. It scared him to think that he'd almost forgotten what he was capable of. He touched his hand to his impaired eye. He swore he would never double cross this man again.

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun dun.

Not just MMagnet and GrimmKitty1325, but everyone else who reviewed, followed, favorited. THANK YOU!

And of course my sweet sweet beta. **JoanIncarnate. **Thank you thank you! :D

Guys, sorry about the lack of smut. I've gotta be gentle on Ichi, ya know?


	8. Kaien Shiba Preface

A/N: Alas! I'm back! Hopefully, some of you have stuck with me. I don't blame you if not :P

But I should thank my beta! Without her, I don't think I would have picked this story back up. Thanks,** JoanI****ncarnate**!

Please enjoy, and expect an update no later than 7 days from now! :)

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Chapter Eight, Kaien Shiba Preface

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"Mornin'." Grimmjow yawned through his teeth as he emerged from his dark bedroom.

Usually, Neliel was awake before Grimmjow had gotten three hours of sleep. She would be dressed and doing chores before she went to her classes down at the community college. That was the _usual _routine. Today she looked like she had just been hit by a truck. A sleepy looking Nel was curled up on the couch, her fingers laced around the handle of her mug of coffee. Her hair was disheveled in every way. It stuck up profusely and crowded around her face; it was a miracle strands of it wasn't swimming in her coffee. "Good morning," she said, her soft voice unfittingly raspy and monotonous.

"Rough night?" Grimmjow asked, pouring his own cup of blissful brewing liquid.

Neliel glanced over, her face suddenly bright with euphoria.

_And she's back._

"You could say that," Nel winked before turning her head forward and sipping the hot drink.

Grimmjow nearly dropped the pot after hearing that. What had she meant by _that_? Was it what Grimmjow thought she meant? She was, after all, lacking composure for once, yet still slightly glowing and grinning from cheek to cheek.

Grimmjow closed his eyes and swallowed. "Meet someone?" It wasn't really the conversation he had in mind, especially one to be having with his sister.

"I did." Her eyes stayed glued to her brother as he slumped down on the couch and gulped down the coffee, not caring about the uncomfortable burning sensation.

Silence between the two settled for a whopping ten seconds before Neliel decided she couldn't keep it all bottled up.

"He's perfect." She sung, penetrating her brother with ogling eyes.

"Ah," Grimmjow grunted.

He couldn't put a finger as to why he was feeling angry at Neliel, but he was. He didn't want to hear about her steamy night with some guy. The way she looked and acted, it was all frustrating to watch and he just wasn't in the mood.

Grimmjow sat heavily on the couch, clad in only his boxers, sighing dejectedly. Nel, now realizing that her time under the lime light was up, downed the rest of her coffee and put it down on the end table with a satisfying clink.

"So...?" She grinned, scooting over close enough for their shoulders to bump.

"What?"

She sighed at that, disappointed in Grimmjow's ardor. "Score any points?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That kid... Itsygo?" Neliel said, cupping a hand over her mouth, feeling embarrassed.

Grimmjow laughed before sitting forward on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his palms. "His name is Ichigo."

"Whatever," Neliel tried not to smile at Grimmjow's expense. "So didja?"

"No."

It was silent for a moment before Nel sat up, resting her elbows on her knees as well. Neliel didn't particularly like having to have to ask all the questions, but if Grimmjow was willing to answer them then it was a win-win. "So after about a month of flirting nothing has happened?"

"He was raped and tortured, I'm not expecting him to pull his pants down for me on the second date." Grimmjow said as he got up to put the mugs in the sink.

"Okay... but still, Grimmy, it's been three whole weeks."

An audible huff was heard over the running water. "Don't call me that."

Neliel snickered. "Call you what?"

Grimmjow twisted his head around and glared at his sister, which in turn only deepened her hardy smile.

"_I_ think it's about time you tell 'im."

"But I—" Grimmjow stopped himself before he could say anything unnecessary.

"It's so simple, Grimm." Neliel sighed, her smile finally fading.

"I know."

The air had quickly become thin and tense. He knew his sister was trying to help, but she was just telling him something that he already knew...

"Hey, Nel?" He stared wistfully at his sister, ostensibly reaching out for a heart to heart. But right at that moment, Nel's phone rang.

She picked up the call with an excited glow, while her voice went several octaves down and returned to it's raspy sound.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. Clearly, they were done here. As he was leaving, he caught snippets of her conversation and from what he could hear, the guy was on his way over to go to class with her. Grimmjow shuddered.

Once the shower was turned on, Grimmjow could no longer catch wind of Neliel's conversation. He let out a breath of relief and stepped under the hot spray. Showers were always a good thinking spot... maybe Grimmjow could sort his mind out now that it was all jumbled.

_Thanks a lot, Nel._

* * *

_Fuck the shower. Fuck Nel _and_ her stupid boyfriend. Fuck this whole day._

Grimmjow sat in his usual seat behind Renji, boiling in his own anger.

Just as he thought his day was looking up, thanks to a nice hot shower, he was spit on by the universe.

After blissfully getting ready for school, heading out the door and being greeted by perfect weather, he began his trip towards the city bus. His mind was clear and his plan with Ichigo could finally be called a plan. Thanks to Neliel, who brought attention to the inevitable question, he finally decided that she was right: he needed to tell Ichigo how he felt.

But all that happiness inside him came to a grinding halt when he was stopped by an all too familiar face.

"'Scuse me," The wanderer acted as if he had never seen Grimmjow before. "Could ya' tell me where room six fifteen is?"

_No. Oh fuck no._

"Uh..." Grimmjow wondered if he should tell the guy and put up a front similar to the man's or tell him to take a hike. Everything about this guy was disgusting. Grimmjow was seething just looking at him, remembering their first encounter. His hair was what pissed off Grimmjow the most. That damnable, slick black hair that nearly touched his ass.

"That's my place," He said hesitantly. "You here for my sister?"

"Is yer sister Neliel?" Grimmjow nodded.

He couldn't mull this guy over. Out of all the people in Karakura, Nel ended up with the same guy that harassed Ichigo a while back? Surely he remembered Grimmjow and was just playing dumb, it was the only explanation.

"So uh, six fifteen is... where?"

"Upstairs, fifth door to your right." Grimmjow snapped then turned around to get as far away as he could.

He could have never imagined that his own sister was with _that _prick. Did he even like his sister? Grimmjow knew he had to be merely using her. It was pretty obvious that he liked men, judging by the way he came on to Ichigo. The guy told him he wanted a picture of Ichigo in a tourist sense, but even if Ichigo couldn't tell, Grimmjow knew that skinny freak wanted more than just a picture. No one went that far unless they had ulterior motives.

"Hey, you!"

Grimmjow jumped in his seat. "Huh?" He mumbled.

"What are you staring at?" It seemed being so lost in thought tired out his partner's patience, but even when sitting, the short girl before him was no match to his bulky structure.

"Um..."

"Look, I know what you're thinking. I can tell you don't wanna be here."

Grimmjow's attention was roughly caught on Rukia. She had read his mind, maybe even just his body language to tell that this project was the last thing on his mind. "And you do?"

"I want a passing grade." Her dark purple eyes quickly averted away from Grimmjow's tired face and, for a moment, he was sure that she had looked directly at Renji as she spoke, but he wasn't curious enough to make anything of it. Rukia released a deep, exasperated breath before picking up her words again. "But hey, we're both on the same page, yeah? I don't want to do this any more than you do."

With that, Grimmjow's attention was solely on Rukia. "Okay, yeah. So what?"

Rukia pushed a clump of hair behind her ear, turned towards her desk and grabbed a notebook and pen. Grimmjow watched her write. Her index finger was fastened uncomfortably over her thumb as she held on to the pen, yet her font was elegant like cursive, almost too hard to read but still pretty. It reminded Grimmjow of his mother's handwriting.

Suddenly, Rukia ripped the paper from her spiral notebook, the loud ripping sound getting the brief attention of a few students. "Here, it's my address and cell. Now gimme yours."

"Pushy, huh?" Grimmjow crossed his arms and smirked.

Rukia huffed a plentiful sigh big enough to rustle Grimmjow's thin strands of hair clouding his forehead. "_Please _give me yours?" Her eyes were squinting more, causing the corners to crinkle. Obviously, she was frustrated and Grimmjow was pleased enough to comply.

Although his handwriting wasn't much compared to her's (probably more noticeable to Grimmjow, due to it complementing his unobtrusive insecurities), he scribbled down his information and handed it to her with a loud slap onto her desk. "What now? Don't tell me you're going to stalk me. Oh god," Grimmjow teased, radiating a grin to advertise his jest.

Rukia wasn't amused though. She didn't seem to have much of a sense of humor. Grimmjow deflated when she began talking again, not acknowledging his joke at all. "This way we can do our work together like we're supposed to. It'll go by faster if I come to your house or vice versa."

Upon establishing they're plans, the duo fell into a dexterous silence. The quietness would have been more awkward if the rest of the class wasn't bustling around them and if each of their minds weren't entertained by something opposite of each other.

* * *

"Yer good to go, Mr. Aizen." A round, heavy-set man with a bald head and blue uniform escorted Sousuke down the hall, away from the jail cells. The sun peeking through the windows was brilliant, casting a bright orange glow on everything.

Orange was coincidentally his favorite, making this scene a fitting overture to his plan.

Aizen remembered the last time he witnessed such a beautiful sunset. It was a summer day, at least six years ago...

_... "It's a good day to take the top off, yeah?" The screeching of distant seagulls and waves washing the sand complemented the man's pure, tranquil voice._

_"Just like it was yesterday. And the day before, and even before that-" His hat was suddenly tipped over his forehead, a slight snickering following after. Kaien rolled his eyes as he retrieved his hat from the ground. He stared out at the sunlit beach, dull, tired eyes taking in the sight encasing him. It was such marvelous. Nothing could beat the bittersweet beauty of this moment._

_All too soon the probing pain kicked in again._

_Kaien shivered at first. He breathed through clenched teeth and tried to focus on the sunset he was just raving about in his head, but it didn't work. It felt like salt being poured into fresh wounds._

_His companion took notice to his discomfort and rushed to his side. "Kaien? What's the matter?"_

_Kaien jumped at the man's breath, suddenly too close to his ear. His reflexes nowadays were much more keen, however, not in a favorable way. "My arms, they're burning again." He watched as his lover rolled up his sleeves to reveal crimson wounds coiling up his arms, like snakes. His injuries were swollen and looked like they were on the verge of bleeding. "Sousuke, I really think I should go to the clinic. Please."_

_Aizen breathed through his nose. His eyes were closed._

_Kaien recognized these signs as irritation. The last time Aizen got like this, his arms got singed._

_"I told you, Kaien. You should have listened," Aizen smiled down at him, standing up and casting a shadow over his lover. "Then you wouldn't have those marks in the first place."_

_He realized he was about to cross the line again with his petty persisting. Aizen taught Kaien that crossing the line was bad. He would get punished if he did something to upset him. He didn't wish to upset Sousuke ever again. Instead of persisting on medical attention, he smiled, a perfect mirror of Aizen. "Yeah, you're right." He looked down at his arms one last time before rolling his sleeves back down. He winced at the pain before blatantly ignoring it for his lover's sake, and his very own._

_A smooth finger under his chin lifted Kaien's face up to meet Aizen's. He smelled so sweet, encasing Kaien in his euphoria. Aizen claimed his lips gently, tightening his grip on his lover's chin. He let his tongue slip across his lips before turning around and walking closer to their convertible._

_Kaien scowled behind Aizen's back and wiped his lips vigorously before spitting on the pavement._

_If there was a way out of this, then Kaien would do anything to obtain that escape. He wondered if there was even a way to slip through the man's deadening grip._

_"Love, are we removing the top?" Kaien asked, his mask of happiness fastened once again._

_Aizen adjusted the mirror with a furious expression, pushing Kaien out of view in the rear mirror. "Next time," he retorted coldly. Aizen Sousuke would make sure his beloved regretted doing such an act, thinking that he was unseen._

_This was strike two for Kaien Shiba, and Aizen knew that strike three couldn't be far behind..._

... Aizen sighed as nostalgia hit him, but shook the memories away as he and the guard arrived at their destination.

"Boss," Nnoitra sprang up from a black bench, stepping on a spent cigarette and tossing a set of keys to his superior.

Two beeps sounded off from the distance and Aizen headed in the direction of the car.

A deadly silence slithered in between the duo. Nnoitra, fiddling with his thumbs in the passenger seat, was nervous as hell.

If he messed up this time, then he would be saying goodbye to a lot more than just his eye.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	9. Revelation

A/N: Clearly I don't know how long a week is because it's been way over seven days. Sorry, I know I said I would update sooner. I really don't have an excuse.

But despite my laziness, please enjoy this belated chapter.

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Chapter Nine, Revelation

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Grimmjow licked his lips for the billionth time that morning and shifted his weight as he once again held his cellphone up to his face. The sun was in the midst of rising, casting the sky in a fiery hue of pink, orange and the fanciest of lavenders. He stared at the message glowing on the screen, when he glanced at the time on his phone he wanted to hurl the damn thing and hide under the covers.

Six forty in the morning and Kuchiki had informed Grimmjow that she would be arriving at seven 'o clock—to his misfortune.

Grimmjow grunted before dedicating every last drop of willpower to throw the covers off of him and stand out of bed. He immediately regretted that decision and wanted all too much to collapse back onto his mattress that was still warm. Instead, he slapped his cheeks a few times and marched out of his room.

Trying to make the best of twenty minutes, Grimmjow skipped his usual cup of coffee (despite his desperate need for it) and went straight for the shower.

Switching on the light in the bathroom was a little more than painful. His eyes stunned from the abrupt change in lighting, leaving Grimmjow blind for the moment. When his eyes finally did adjust, he reached for the bath faucet and turned on the cold spray from the shower.

As he undressed, the illumination complemented his tan skin and showed off his smoothness. No visible flaws, no sun damage, no moles and minimal freckles. It was almost inhuman how stunning he was. He continued on to step under the water and wet his face first, making his eyes feel fresh and alert.

As he showered, he grew innermost in thought. Grimmjow spent extra attention to his hygiene while he washed. A little extra time when he massaged his shampoo into his hair, then in turn rinsing out longer than usual. When he washed his body, his hands smoothed the soap suds onto his skin slowly and almost sensually. Again, supplementary time was given while he cleansed each crevice of his body. His hands lingered on his chest and abdomen, slowly working their way down.

He wondered if Ichigo washed him self like this.

Grimmjow pounded on the tile wall, cursing him self for thinking of Ichigo like that. It was wrong, he felt sympathy for the kid after all, imagining him—fantasizing about this victim was inadmissible. It made his blood race, and made the water feel hotter and smoother as it rained down on him.

This feeling was good, and that was what frightened Grimmjow. But, it was only natural. Ichigo was so obliviously attractive, it made Grimmjow twitch with ecstasy, he adored Ichigo's innocence. Picturing something so taboo about someone so unexpected turned Grimmjow on—he then found him self back to thinking of Ichigo. In the shower. Maybe with him, or perhaps by him self. Both images had all his blood rushing to his groin within a minute, and so...

"Grimm!" A hard pounding on the bathroom door startled Grimmjow to the point of his balance faltering. He quickly found him self grabbing for the soap bar in search of leverage.

"_What_!" Acute fury was almost all that could define his tone just then. A few seconds went by before Nel answered, and returning the angry tone was predictable.

"...Rukia's here... jeez."

Grimmjow sighed and shut the shower off. He hadn't realized he was in the shower for twenty minutes if not longer; assuming she wasn't just early. After he dried off and got dressed, he presented him self to a preoccupied Rukia.

Slight laughter invaded his ears as he looked around the corner into the kitchen. Rukia sat with Nel at the dining table, sipping from a tea cup occasionally and it took more than just Grimmjow materializing in front of them to get their attention.

"There you are, I've been waiting." Rukia stood from her seat and approached Grimmjow, her face now more content.

"Yeah, well,"

"I brought my stuff. Let's get started."

"Sure, whatever."

Silence edged awkwardly close between the two as Grimmjow organized his thoughts. Where had he put his school bag? His room?

"Ah, I'm late!" Neliel backed her chair up suddenly and scurried for her bag, then walking towards the door.

"What? Where are you going?" Grimmjow didn't want to be left alone with this girl, it would just so be awkward and undoubtedly boring and—well, he should probably stop there.

"School,"

"It's Saturday." Grimmjow's eyebrows lifted.

"I'm getting extra help for my exams!" Those were her departing words, seeing as though she was now out the door and Rukia and Grimmjow were now left alone. Sizzling once again in a thick awkward air.

"Who is she?" _What? _After all that time talking, and Kuchiki didn't know who Nel was?

"My sister." Grimmjow's back was now turned and he was returning to his room to retrieve his bag.

"I didn't know you had a sister." Rukia called out.

"How could you?"

Rukia thought about that for no more than a second and immediately dismissed the topic. She returned to the table to begin discarding her things.

When Grimmjow returned, he noticed Rukia already cracking down on her work. Papers were scattered, occupying almost all the table space. Grimmjow grunted and haphazardly dropped his backpack on top of the table, and on top of Kuchiki's papers. A deathly glare was definitely expected, and right on cue Rukia gifted Grimmjow one before pulling her papers back to her self.

"What's with all the damn papers?" Grimmjow asked, noting that Rukia had double if not triple the amount of work he had. Completed papers stacked in a clumsy pile, they were all notes it seemed.

"These are yours,"

"Uhh-"

"Notes, so that you can study my assigned figure." _Shit. _Was Grimmjow supposed to do the same for her?

He picked up the stack of papers and scanned them. Naturally they were notes after notes all dedicated to her damn historian, Grimmjow figured he should have expected no less, but still...

"I uh-" He was slightly dumbfounded and a little confused, but mostly feeling stupid. "I didn't write anything for you." What did this mean? Would Grimmjow be stuck writing notes while Rukia lounged around watching? Somehow, that didn't sound fair to him.

"Yeah, I know, it's fine." Was it really? Rukia wasn't very convincing. She looked disappointed and irritated.

"Well what do you want me to do?" Now acting as the irritable one, Grimmjow huffed a breath out and slouched back in his seat.

"Just... If I have any questions I'll just ask you," It was almost as it Kuchiki planned all this, writing a ridiculous amount of notes to make Grimmjow look dumb. Was she really that narcissistic about making her self look good? "Until you write up some notes we'll just start on the final project."

Grimmjow mulled that over, debating whether or not she was still being rude. "Yeah, OK."

From then on the two exchanged information about their assigned characters, revealing the unexpected relationship the two historians had. It wasn't long before they figured out that Ms. Ochi purposely assigned them due to who they had—the whole class would probably be dealing with the same occurrence if not already.

Despite Rukia trying to make her self out to be something more extraordinary than Grimmjow, in return generously making an ass out of him, things mellowed out and their buddy system proved to be more doable than originally predicted. Kuchiki discovered that Grimmjow was much smarter than she had thought, and Grimmjow could almost see what Renji saw in her. He finally concluded that he could tolerate her (although no more than that) and found him self content with her and him self. But that was only until she started giving him funny looks an hour into their work.

It was so bizarre. Sometimes they would hit it off, maybe pass a joke back and forth, but when they grew silent Rukia would glance up nervously. She was biting her lip and anxiously tapping her pen. Grimmjow slowly began to notice, and when it finally sunk in, he began to feel a bit creeped out. Her demeanor became less insulting and more complementing and her face slowly grew strained. She fell behind Grimmjow in progress, and soon enough he began to wonder if she was trying to muster up the guts to tell him something.

"Are you hungry?" Grimmjow dropped his pen onto the table and stretched his arms up, hands interlacing above his head.

"It's not even close to lunchtime yet."

"OK, are you thirsty?" He departed the table and opened the fridge, cringing at the cool air dusting his skin. Grimmjow extracted two water bottles from the door, and without waiting for a response he handed one to Rukia and sat back down.

She sipped it slowly and briefly, then twisted the cap back on; Grimmjow, on the other hand, chugged half of the bottle down easily. The sound of the bottle being compacted echoing slightly. Eventually he stopped and slammed the bottle down onto the table, not bothering with the lid. Rukia had watched him, he met her eyes and lifted an eyebrow.

"What're you lookin at?"

"Nothing."

Grimmjow paused before responding. "Hokay."

Another painful thirty minutes crept by and Grimmjow began to finally boil in his own boredom. The only thing he could hear was papers being moved around. He wanted to scream. Never had he dedicated this much time into work, and at such an early time? He really didn't want to think anymore. And with Kuchiki there still gawking at him from time to time he only felt worse.

But the time was still marching by with an incredibly slow pace. It felt like they had been working for forever, when it had only been about two hours. Grimmjow wondered if he could escape by taking an early lunch—though, not probable. The only thing left for him to do was suck it up and do his work. So naturally, he did.

"Hey, so," Rukia started to say something more, but clipped her words and reorganized her thoughts. Grimmjow's forehead creased in time with his eyebrows rising as he looked up at Rukia. "Are you and Ichigo..." Another sentence decapitated. Grimmjow began to catch on however.

But why she was wondering about Ichigo was beyond Grimmjow.

"Are me and him what?"

"Are you two... together?"

Grimmjow bit his tongue. Kuchiki sure did have a good eye, he thought—and some guts. Although they were pretty far from being an item.

"Kurosaki eh? He's... ah."

Rukia smiled shyly. "Detached?" Grimmjow's mouth twitched and he nodded.

"Yeah, well... Ichigo's gone through a lot you know."

"That's what I heard." Grimmjow crossed his arms and looked away, he wasn't absolutely sure that he liked her prying. She seemed like the kind of person that might verbally beat information out of you, or maybe act like a snake and slither her way into your business.

"How come you haven't told him how you feel?"

"_What_?" Grimmjow's body froze halfway up and his eyes widened as he slowly let the flow of anger rinse the mediocre demeanor away.

He didn't need to think of the reason why Kuchiki knew something so personal about Grimmjow. He quickly thought back to earlier that morning and remembered her and Nel's encounter. _She _must have told her. It wasn't surprising either, it was just like Nel to give away personal affairs like she was handing out free candy. Grimmjow tried not to be angry at Rukia, out of mere politeness; he reminded him self over and over again that it was Nel who he was ultimately pissed at.

"What else did my sister tell you?"

Rukia quickly caught on to Grimmjow's reaction and regretted saying anything, especially since Nel had requested her to not peep a word. But she brushed it off as well as she could, Grimmjow sure does act rough, but she knew he wasn't harmful to her.

"Just a few things... let's see," Rukia thought for a moment making Grimmjow wince at the supsense. He just wanted to know what she knew now so he could kill Nel for it later. "That you haven't been able to tell Ichigo how you feel because, well..."

"Well... what?"

"Because you're too nice and you don't want to push him away." Rukia curled her lips in and looked down, her face turning red from suppressing her own laughter. Grimmjow felt that now he was allowed to be pissed at Rukia as well, for making it out to be a joke.

"Shut up, it's annoying."

"You're much softer than you look you know." Rukia looked up, a teasing smile tugging on her lips.

"No I'm not, shut up." Grimmjow's eyes averted Kuchiki's amused gaze. He didn't know what to say, how to defend him self. All he could think about was how he felt invaded and humiliated thanks to his damn sister. He _was_ going to murder her.

"But I know Ichigo pretty well,"

"Yeah? when have you ever talked to him?" Grimmjow snapped, his tone was abrupt and hurtful.

"You didn't let me finish," Rukia smiled and placed her elbows on the table before continuing. "I know Ichigo pretty well, and I know that babying him won't get through to him."

"Shit, I'm not babying him."

"You've just got to come out with everything, put it all in front of him and force him to choose."

"The fuck would you know?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, trying not to act intrigued like he was. He figured dealing with someone like Kurosaki, you had to be cautious and let them decide on their own. He never expanded his view and thought of the outcome if you were abrupt and to the point. Thinking about it, Grimmjow mulled over that Rukia had a valid point—and he hated that she did.

"I told you I know him pretty well didn't I?" She smiled knowingly. Grimmjow may be reluctant to accept what Rukia had informed him but she knew he would comply if he really wanted Ichigo.

It all made sense to Rukia, now Grimmjow just had to come around.

"You know, even without your sister telling me about you and Ichigo I could tell."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, she may have gained a valid point earlier but now she was just pushing her luck.

"Tell what?"

"That you like him, but..." Her face went numb for a second, it was as if she thought of something she didn't want to think of judging by her blank eyes and furrowing brows. "It's even more obvious that Ichigo likes _you_."

This was news to Grimmjow. Since when had Ichigo ever flirted or even put his hands on Grimmjow? Everything Ichigo did was just a friendly gesture. Rukia was just trying to flatter Grimmjow, that was the only explanation.

"Are you really that dense?" This was when Grimmjow discovered that Rukia could be much more intimidating than he predicted. Her eyes glowered lightly, almost playfully. She was angry yet amused. She never expected to see this side of Grimmjow. "Just think," She began, this time her anger aged and expired.

"You're the _only one _who Ichigo even associates with. What makes you so special? It's so simple."

"_It's so simple, Grimm."_

Grimmjow didn't respond to that, and if he tried to he would probably find that he was unable. Why was everything Kuchiki had said to him making so much sense? It seemed so obvious, why hadn't Grimmjow seen it? Was he really that wrapped up in not messing anything up that he didn't stop to think that maybe Ichigo already had feelings for Grimmjow?

"Well fuck."

* * *

One of the few benefits to living with Neliel Jaegerjaques was her skill level when it came to preparing food. Anything she did: baking, cooking, frying. It was all superb and she knew it all too well, because she cooked as much as she could (taking into account her laziness).

She had dinner simmering on the stove with a divine scent enveloping the apartment. While she waited, a hankering for cookies kicked in and she soon found her self baking. Her clothes and skin had splotches of flour from her nose to her knees. She may have been a master when it came to preparing food, but she left a path of utter destruction in her wake. The counter was littered with bowls and utensils and a light coating of flour dusted the floor. Almost like a pig in the mud, Nel enjoyed every second of her mess. It was euphoric and soothing.

As if on cue, the oven cascaded the kitchen (and soon the whole apartment) in an aroma that could make anyone's mouth water easily. This was when she expected Grimmjow to be hovering in her space, fighting for the bowl of cookie dough, trying to scrape the scarce amount of dough for him self. But he was long gone. Snoring on the couch with the TV on something ridiculous. On the bright side, she could be left undisturbed, two people in her tiny kitchen was not a comfortable working space unfortunately.

"Grimm, dinner's almost ready!" She called out, opening the oven to check on the cookies. The heat pouring out had everything looking wavy and had her nose scrunching up from the singing heat.

Nel received no audible response, all she could decipher was a dissatisfied moan while he turned over to lay on his chest with his arm hanging off the couch.

She rolled her eyes and gave up without a fight. If he was going to sleep and miss dinner then so be it. It was more his loss than hers.

Although she had to admit, he had a long day. Nel knew that it was completely out of character for him to get up so early in the morning—or even in the morning at all. And after chatting with Rukia, she knew his day would only grow to be more vigorous. However, Nel wasn't trying to be offensive by thinking that, she just knew that her brother wouldn't be very thrilled to be working with her at such an early time.

Rukia was generous though, she had acted rough and insulting, but in the end everything was in it's right place. She was the, 'I'm doing this for your own good' kind of girl. When Nel had that revelation she knew that Rukia was what Grimmjow needed. She figured that she would be punished by Grimmjow later for telling Rukia about his dilemma with Itsygo... or whatever. Adding a little curiosity and motive, Nel knew that she would be getting some results. It was for Grimmjow's sake and hers as well. This way they would both be happy: Grimmjow could skip towards the sunset with Ichigo in tow, and Nel could enjoy the zen of a less grumpy brother.  
"Hey... Grimmy...!" Nel stood over her brother shaking him gently.

She sighed and hung her head when she yet again got a silent response. "Come on... dinner's ready." Before she could keep persisting, someone knocked on the door. It was such a pitiful knock, Nel was lucky to have heard it.

"Who could that be?" As she scurried over to the door she tried desperately to brush the flour off her face and clothes and rearranged her hair to something more presentable.

Upon swinging the door open, a person who she had never seen appeared before her. He was cute to her eyes, although maybe a little too young for Nel. She stared at him, who he in turn stared back at her. She imagined he was probably impressed by her tealish colored locks.

What piqued her sight the most though, was his bittersweet apricot colored hair.

"Can I help you, mister? Are you a friend of Grimm's?"

"I, uh," Neliel couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that made her stomach churn, maybe it was the bitter look of apprehension she was receiving from this kid. He seemed too shocked for words... but why?

"Are you o-"

"Sorry, I um... sorry."

Neliel's confusion deepened as the boy began backing up slowly. Was he leaving? Why?

That's when it hit her.

But he began to leave, his pace picked up slowly. All Nel could do was watch, she just couldn't remember his damn name to call after him. She quickly became preoccupied with remembering it.

_What was his name? Itsygo...? Ichi... Ichigo!_

"Hey! Ichigo! Wait!"

Now utterly frustrated she yelled louder for him, mad that he was too self absorbed to come back.

"_Ichigo_!"

A few minutes passed before finally accepting that she failed. Slowly and reluctantly, Nel shut the door.

She had no idea Ichigo knew where Grimmjow lived, or that he planned to come over. She wondered if Grimmjow had invited him over, though dismissed that thought when she figured that he wouldn't invite someone over during dinner and not inform Nel to cook for three.

So, did why did Ichigo come over then? Did he have something to say to Grimmjow? To come over so late in the evening, and even while it was barely raining outside it must have been important. But still... why did he flee? Nel was missing something.

When she turned around to resume dinner, her eyes ran into a standing Grimmjow. When she saw his bedraggled emotions clouding his face, she began to feel like she had done something wrong. A mix of acrimony, concern and inquisitiveness crowded his expression, making Nel feel worried.

"Nel, was that-"

"Grimmjow, I-"

Her eyes widened into deeper worry as she intently watched her brother scurry for his shoes before storming out the door in a blitz.

* * *

**To be continued...**


End file.
